


Ma'ane'i No Ke Aloha

by elise_509



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elise_509/pseuds/elise_509
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chin knows how Danny feels about Steve McGarrett. In fact, he knows it all too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma'ane'i No Ke Aloha

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Steve/Chin (past), Steve/Danny (present)
> 
> Word Count: 49K
> 
> Spoilers: Through 1.11 “Palekaiko”
> 
> Disclaimer: Not Mine!
> 
> A/N: AU wherein Steve and Chin met during Steve’s senior year of high school.

**  
**

 

 **Present**

 

“Screw that guy!” Danny comes within millimeters of slamming his fist against the thick glass window, pulling back at the last available second.

 

Chin tries not to smile. He’s barely able to get his mouth to cooperate before Danny turns back around, flexing and curling the fingers of his right hand as if he actually had landed a punch.

 

“I mean…just, screw him, man. I can’t even…” Danny’s words peter off into a long deep exhale. “Okay. All right. Fine. I’m _not_ letting this get to me.” He shrugs it off, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Not worth it, Danny, so not worth it.”

 

Despite all his best efforts a chuckle pushes its way past Chin’s lips, and at the edge of his peripheral vision he spots Kono stifling a laugh of her own. He has to be careful not to catch her eye or else he’s sure they’ll both be goners. Kono’s laughter has always been contagious.

 

“What.” Danny snaps toward him, hands gesturing wildly. “You think this is funny?” Chin doesn’t trust himself to answer so he wisely remains silent. “Cause it’s not funny. It’s not even vaguely humorous. Not even a little bit.”

 

“You gotta calm down, brah.”

 

“Yeah, Danny, you’re about to give yourself a heart attack. Here.” Kono holds out a white paper cup with water, nodding for him to take it. He ignores the offer and walks away from her, circling around to the other side of the computer table.

 

“Despite what you both apparently seem to think, I am not a child.” He points both hands toward his chest, tapping once for emphasis. “I am a fully grown man. I am a detective for chrissakes, and a good one at that. I don’t need Mr. Black Ops tellin’ _me_ how to do _my_ job.”

 

Danny gestures out the door in the direction that Steve had gone a few minutes earlier. He stops and stares at the empty hallway with his hands on his hips, still wrapping his head around the fact Steve left him behind.

 

A second later he’s back in action.

 

“Yeah, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not gonna sit around here and wait for a news report saying the idiot’s blown up half of Honolulu or god knows what else.”

 

“Danny,” Chin sighs, getting up from where he sits on the edge of the table. He sets a hand on Danny’s shoulder and finds the smaller man practically shaking with agitation. Steve’s always had an ability to get underneath people’s skin – he learned that the hard way years ago – but the effect he has on Danny is in a whole new league of its own. “Look. Steve’s got this one.”

 

“No no, see, what you mean is Steve and _that schmuck_ got this one. _That’s_ what you mean. Let me ask you, do you remember the last time one of _Smooth Dog’s_ Navy buddies came around? I do. ‘Cause the asshole almost killed us all. Is this ringing any bells with you?”

 

“Come on, Danny. What are the odds that another one of Steve’s friends is working against us? Besides, David seems like a good guy.” Kono replies soothingly with a calm and reassuring smile.

 

“Do not use your Kid Whisperer voice on me, Kono. It might work on five year olds but I hear what you’re doing.” He points from his ear to her and then back to his ear. “And frankly, the very idea that you _think_ that would work on me is offensive.”

 

“Seriously –“

 

“Seriously, what. We’re supposed to be a team. Special task force? Five-O? Not ‘Steve and his Minions.’” He crunches his fingers in air quotes and then pauses for a moment. Chin thinks it might be a reprieve from the tirade but when he opens his mouth to speak, Danny plunders on.

 

“This guy, this David or whoever, just blows into town and suddenly I’m replaceable?” Danny’s been wound up ever since David arrived on the island three days ago; Steve telling Danny to stay behind is just the extra twist that has Danny pulled tight and ready to snap. “Steve shouldn’t be able to pull whoever the hell he wants into a case just ‘cause he feels like it. Guy’s not even a cop, what are his qualifications?”

 

“He’s a SEAL, like Steve,” Kono says. She apparently hasn’t realized that this is now a conversation Danny is having with himself and their input is no longer required.

 

“The suspect is Air Force. I have _met_ General Nathanson before – even been to Hickam! – and managed not to fuck it up. So what if I’m not military? He thinks I can’t fall in with those guys? My ‘smart aleck mouth’, that’s what he says. What does he think I’m gonna do, walk into the place and shit all over Semper Fi?”

 

“I’m pretty sure Semper Fi is the Marines,” Kono corrects quietly.

 

“That’s not the point.”

 

“It kind of is, Danny.” Chin takes hold of both of Danny’s shoulders now and holds him still, bending at the knees a little so he can look directly into Danny’s eyes. He’s only going to get more worked up if one of them doesn’t manage to curtail this rant. Danny sighs in anticipation of the speech he must know he’s about to receive and shifts his weight back and forth on his feet.

 

“Those guys take their jobs very seriously, and they speak their own language. If we’re going to go in there and poke our noses into their business, possibly accuse one of their men of murdering this girl, it’s probably best to let Steve direct how this is going to go. They’ll cooperate better with one of their own.”

 

“So you’re okay with sitting back and doing grunt work while Steve runs off with a complete stranger to track down a suspected killer.”

 

“In this particular case…yes. I am.” Chin replies. Danny turns to Kono for her response.

 

“Yeah, I am too.”

 

Danny looks between them, baffled.

 

“Well I’m not,” he sputters.

 

“Never would’ve guessed,” Kono says dryly and bends to press a few buttons on the computer, bringing up images of the crime scene to review once more. She points to the three screens, eyebrow delicately raised. “Maybe we should get back to this…?”

 

Danny scowls at her, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“I am merely voicing a legitimate concern.”

 

“Your concern is noted.” Chin nods toward the crime photos, trying to aid Kono in directing attention back to the matter-at-hand. “But I think the best way we can help this case _and_ help Steve is to get some hard admissible evidence to nail this guy before he hurts anyone else.”

 

“Fine. But when we get a phone call saying that Snake Eyes and Sergeant Slaughter pulled some crazyass stunt that set an entire military base on red alert, I’m gonna be right here tellin’ you _I told you so._ ”

 

“Also noted.”

 

“You both act like I’m overreacting, but you know that I’m the only thing that keeps that guy from going over the edge. I mean, you _do_ know that, right? I am the sane yin to his insane yang.”

 

Kono shoots Chin a look and this time the smiles they exchange are weighted and wistful.

 

“Yeah, brah. We know that.” Kono says, that softness once again taking hold of her tone. But this time Danny doesn’t fight it. He relaxes, taking a deep breath and then running his hand over his mouth and chin.

 

Just as quickly, his shoulders tense, his jaw sets firmly, and he’s right back to being frustrated and angry.

 

Most of the time, Chin can laugh off Danny’s seething rage and chuckle at his and Steve’s constant bickering, but some days it goes on too long. Long enough that the anger and the frustration chip away and start to reveal what’s really underneath. Chin can’t pretend he doesn’t _see_. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know.

 

Because Chin, well, he’s been there.

 

And being _there_ , being in love with Steve McGarrett and not even realizing it, is not a good place to be. Love for Steve is a stealthy and dangerous feeling, right in line with everything that Steve is. You don’t even realize it’s happened until it’s said and done, and your ass is knocked out cold before you could raise a hand to defend yourself.

 

Sometimes when Chin takes a moment to look at Steve – to _really_ look at him, even now – he’s not sure he’s ever fully recovered from the blow. Something deep inside will _always_ ache, as a once broken bone twinges when it rains.

 

Beside him, Danny scrutinizes the board, grinding his teeth as he tries to concentrate. Chin feels a brief wave of pity swell up inside of him.

 

“Okay.” Danny begins, palms together, fingertips pointing toward the computer. “Let’s go over this all again. Start at the top.”

 

*******

 

 

 **October, 1993**

 

The sun is hammering down on the field, not even a whisper of a cool ocean breeze to provide relief. The air is uncommonly calm. Chin squints into the brightness and briefly wonders how he ever managed to wear full pads and uniform in this heat, much less play the game. It’s all relative, he supposes. At the time, it didn’t feel so bad.

 

The crowd is loud, chanting Steve’s name as he makes his way from the sideline to the line of scrimmage. Five years ago that was him out there, star quarterback of the Kukui Kings, and these fans were shouting his name. Now Steve McGarrett has all of his former records in hand save one and half a season left to make the set complete.

 

People expect Chin to care – and maybe a little piece of him does – but most of him finds it hard to root against the son of the man sitting intently beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses.

 

To say Jack McGarrett is stoic would be a vast understatement. Yet underneath the gruff exterior, there is vast reserve of kindness that Chin is sure many people don’t realize exists. But it most definitely _is_ there.

 

As a police officer, the man excels. He’s taught Chin so much already over the past few months; he’s endlessly generous with his knowledge and expertise. It’s like he has staked his name and reputation on molding and shaping Chin into his successor. Chin can only hope to do the man proud.

 

The ball is snapped and the defense is on Steve almost immediately, breaking through holes in the offense that simply shouldn’t be there. It hardly seems to matter. Steve sidesteps and turns and breaks free of some kid’s weak hold on his jersey and then he’s off.

 

Chin’s never witnessed someone play the game with such fierce elegance. Steve moves like he knows exactly where the openings are and who is coming at him. He’s got an instinctive, natural brilliance and an aggression that barrels through every obstacle with such ease that each one seems of absolutely no consequence. Last year Chin saw him throw a touchdown pass with two guys hanging on him and desperately trying to drag him to the turf. Chin knows it must have happened at some point, but he can’t remember ever seeing the kid get sacked.

 

He doesn’t realize his mind is drifting, that he’s watching the world in slow motion, until the crowd suddenly erupts and snaps him back to attention. Steve’s in the end zone now, his teammates ecstatic. Back slaps, helmet rubs, and pats on the ass all around.

 

Next to him, Jack clenches his fist victoriously and shouts with the utter lack of reserve he only displays when his son is playing.

 

“Now that’s my boy,” He exclaims and reaches over, slaps Chin on the knee. His smile is short and brief but completely honest.

 

Still, Jack leaves the second the fourth quarter whistles to a close. He makes the same excuse as always – something about wanting to beat the bustle of people to the parking lot before it became impossibly congested with game day traffic – but it’s really because he doesn’t want to chance Steve spotting him.

 

“Think I’m gonna stay, Jack.” Chin gathers up the courage to wave him off for the very first time. “Gotta meet my cuz Sid for a family thing. He has seats down that way.” He gestures down toward the 30 yard line and hopes that Jack doesn’t hear the telltale waver in his voice. Even the smallest of lies make him nervous.

 

If Jack does notice, he doesn’t press for details. He merely nods.

 

“10-4. See ya at 0700 Monday morning then.”

 

“Yes sir.” He offers Jack a small salute and then watches as Jack edges his way past knees and feet and empty beer cans to get to the aisle. He rounds the corner and he’s gone before anyone else has moved to stand.

 

Chin waits patiently until the stadium is nothing but empty bleachers and litter. Then he makes his way down to the locker room.

 

There’s a small knot in his stomach that warns him that this is a bad idea, that he’s about to cross a huge boundary here, but he ignores it. He can’t turn left on this island without running into a family member; to him it seems pretty ridiculous for Jack McGarrett to keep coming to these games and not even let Steve know he’s there.

 

The locker room is exactly the same as he remembers it; even smells the same, a pungent mixture of body odor, lemon Lysol, and Icy Hot.

 

“Chin Ho Kelly, hey braddah!” There are a few shoulder slaps and fist bumps from those who recognize him. He thinks most of them are brothers or cousins of his former teammates.

 

“’Ey, number twelve! All right man.”

 

Chin accepts the gestures of praise gladly. They feel familiar, comforting, taking him right back to the days when he had his things stashed right here in locker 102. He brushes his fingers over the cool metal as he passes it by.

 

Steve’s at his own locker, further down the row, in the midst of peeling off his pads and equipment. His jersey’s in a pile at his feet and he’s pulling off his undershirt and tossing it into his locker as Chin walks up.

 

“Steve, hi.”

 

Steve stops undressing for only the moment it takes to give Chin a cursory, curious glance, and then strips down to his underwear.

 

“Hi.” He replies pleasantly enough, hesitating before saying anything more.

 

Chin means to speak, but he gets caught up in looking at Steve’s face up close, unwillingly fascinated. Until now he’s only seen the lone photo Jack keeps on his desk, taken long enough ago that Steve looks much older in person. More height, more muscle; less shyness in his smile.

 

Chin hadn’t realized he held so many preconceptions of what Steve McGarrett would be until he’s face to face with reality.

 

Steve’s got Jack’s sharp features but Chin finds he’d assumed the son shared his father’s bright baby blues. In fact, Steve’s eyes are far more striking. In the light of the locker room, they look a shade of steel grey Chin has never seen before. The only word he can think of to describe them is beautiful, and the revelation is a surprise.

 

Steve looks back at him intently, gaze narrowing.

 

“Uh, sorry man – can I help you with something, or…?”

 

Chin shakes himself out of his blatant stare and extends his hand. Steve’s grasp is firm and abrupt.

 

“I apologize. Officer Kelly.”

 

“Officer, huh?” Any other teenager would’ve probably balked, but Steve just drops trou and reaches for the white towel hanging on his locker door.

 

“I’m a friend of your Dad’s. He’s my training officer down at HPD.”

 

This gives Steve pause; he shows alarm and discomfort for the first time. He stops in the middle of wrapping the towel around his waist and Chin makes sure to keep his gaze focused safely upward.

 

“Is he okay?”

 

“He’s fine,” Chin replies quickly. “He…he’s here, actually. Or, he was, anyway. He, uh, he had to leave.” Maybe he should have thought about what he was going to say before this. Stammering like an idiot isn’t exactly how he’d envisioned this conversation starting.

 

“My dad was here?” Steve finishes tucking the towel tightly at his hips, a look of confusion coming over his face. “Why was he here?”

 

“Came to see you play.” Chin takes a step closer, resting a hand against the cool metal of Steve’s locker door. “He’s at every game, man, home and away. I thought that was something that you should know.”

 

“Why isn’t he telling me this himself?” Even at seventeen, Chin can already see Jack’s no bullshit attitude echoed right there in Steve’s steely gaze. The McGarrett Stare must be hereditary.

 

“Brah, I don’t know.” Chin shrugs. “I’m not going to pretend to understand your old man.”

 

“They why’re you here?” Steve closes his locker but doesn’t lock it up. His jersey is still on the floor like he hasn’t noticed he’d dropped it there.

 

“Your father has helped me a great deal since I joined the force. I’m merely…trying to return the favor. You should know how much he cares about you.”

 

“Look, if you want to do me a favor, cut the crap. We live in the same city and I see the man maybe once a month, tops? He can’t even return a phone call. Watching me play football doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Then why play?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Your dad was an all-star in his day too, always wanted you to play. So if your wearing that jersey _isn’t_ about your dad, why play?”

 

“To break all your records, _tutu kane._ ” Steve’s demeanor slips back into comfortable ease like he’s flipping a switch. He winks and slaps Chin on the shoulder.

 

“Thought you didn’t know who I was.” Chin retorts, going along with it, and Steve shrugs. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, giving them a hint of both green and blue and brown that reminds Chin of shallow ocean above a sand bar.

 

“Chin Ho Kelly, right? Took me a minute but I remember your photo. Saw them takin’ it down so they could put mine up.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” Chin chuckles at Steve’s cheeky arrogance and Steve laughs too, easy and light. When he’s grinning he looks his age, maybe even younger, hard edges softening.

 

Chin feels a tightness in his chest at the sight of Steve’s smile, like he’d just witnessed something beautiful that he had no right to see and will probably never see again.

 

Perhaps it’s that feeling that prompts him to do the profoundly stupid thing he does next.

 

“I’m going to grab some pizza at JJ’s if you’re interested.” The moment the offer leaves his mouth it strikes him as terribly inappropriate. He coughs, buying some time to recoup, maybe find a way to make it seem less like he’d just asked his boss’ son to hang out. “Maybe I could give you some pointers on the spread offense.”

 

“You’re gonna give _me_ pointers.”

 

“Man, I’ve been to every single one of your games since last year. Don’t try to tell me you have a handle on that ‘cause I know you’d be lying.”

 

Steve grins wider, as if Chin’s insult to his ego has endeared rather than injured.

 

“Kay, you got it bro. Give me a minute to hop in the shower and we’ll go. You’re buying, _maka’i_.”

 

Steve heads off to the showers and Chin realizes that during their brief conversation, the locker room had pretty much emptied out. It’s so quiet now that he can hear the squeak of the faucet being turned on and the spray of water hitting linoleum.

 

He picks up Steve’s jersey from the floor and opens his locker to hang it up.

 

50 is a strange number for a quarterback, but he suspects Steve’s fully aware of that. He also doubts Steve cares.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

Steve can see it all over Danny’s face the second he walks into the ER. He turns to David and offers him an advance apology.

 

“I am sorry for whatever is about to come out of his mouth.”

 

David is confused for all of two seconds before it all becomes crystal clear.

 

With a vicious tug and a metallic screech, Danny pulls back the plastic curtain that was half-shielding them from view and his glare trains on Steve with the automatic precision of a heat-seeking missile.

 

“So you were just gonna go have a talk with the guy. I thought that was the plan.”

 

“He ran.”

 

“So I gathered. What about the whole ‘honor between brothers’ and ‘the military code’ and all that nonsense?” Danny demands and Steve gives the best shrug he can muster with two fractured ribs. “What, the suspected murderer of a young teenage girl didn’t adhere to your precious standards? Really. Whodda thunkit.”

 

“Danny…”

 

“Don’t ‘Danny’ me, McGarrett. You and this bozo here screwed up-“

 

“If he had been at the barracks at the time, his commanding officer and fellow officers would have made sure he cooperated,” David begins solemnly, his frown stern and uncompromising. “But seeing as how the suspect was off base already before we arrived-“

 

“He wasn’t the only thing off base, let me tell you,” Danny interrupts, glaring, and turns his focus back on Steve. “And now you, you’re in the emergency room, they’re calling me and telling me you got _shot_ , what the hell happened?”

 

“The usual.” He waves Danny off. “And I’m fine. Didn’t they tell you I was fine?”

 

“I’ve discovered that ‘fine’ is a relative term with you. ‘Fine’ could range from a paper cut to anything short of a coma. And then only because, were you actually _in_ a coma, you would not be awake to insist that you were ‘fine.’”

 

“This guy’s the only reason I’m even here.” Steve points to David, who has yet to crack a smile since they walked through the ER doors. David had been one of his trainers in BUD/S and despite all the years since, he maintained a fatherly concern for Steve, which included _not_ letting Steve get a half-assed work-up on site before going directly back to the office and instead stopping at the hospital to get looked over.

 

“Why, he do this to you?” Danny points from David to Steve, eyebrows raised almost as absurdly high as his hair. Steve can already see steam rattling the gasket, ready to blow. He holds up his hand, signaling Danny to simmer down.

 

“Naw, naw, he’s the reason I’m here getting x-rays instead of back at Five-O with you guys. Dave here likes to play it safe, he’s getting tame in his old age.” He’s only teasing, trying to downplay the whole situation, but David isn’t about to help him out and play along.

 

“We ain’t in a combat zone, McGarrett. Pulling out bullets with your bare hands is fine when it’s a necessity, but ignoring medical care when it’s available isn’t brave or smart and a hospital visit makes you no less of a man.” David pointedly clamps a hand hard on the gauze over Steve’s wounded shoulder and Steve winces despite himself, a stab of pain searing up and down his arm and back.

 

Danny appears to enjoy that quite a bit.

 

“You know what, you might not be so bad. I’m going to have to re-assess my opinion of you, Thompson.” Danny grins widely as Steve grits his teeth through the pain. He manages to shoot Danny a grim smile, not amused.

 

“Good, now I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” David retorts sardonically. Danny’s rarely offered good graces barely register on his radar. “Steve, I’m going to head back to JBPHH and clear up some paperwork with the MA-“

 

“They’re not gonna fight us for jurisdiction, are they?” Steve asks, abruptly forgetting Danny and everything else. The thought of letting this perp out of Five-O’s sights is beyond unacceptable. “Guy was on leave, on _my_ island-“

 

“You guys get him first, it’s a non-issue.” David is quick to assuage his fear and Steve powers down as quickly as he fired up.

 

“Your island? You own it now?” Danny interjects. Steve rolls his eyes at his partner, but more out of habit than anything else. Danny’s endless need to comment and pass judgment on everything he does and says should be annoying, but truth is he finds it both comforting and entertaining more times than not. “Well, let me know when you’re moving into the palace ‘cause I’ve always kinda wanted to see what it’s like in there.”

 

“You know, it’s open to the public, you can just go.”

 

“Like I have time to go, the shit you put me through.”

 

“Oh come on. Take Grace there one of your weekends.”

 

“No, no, see, when I have Grace, when we’re on _my_ time, I like to do _fun_ things. Not things that are going to make her hate me, like going to boring museums. We’ll leave that stuff to Step Stan and the stick up his ass, how about that.”

 

“Only a suggestion. You _just_ said you always wanted to go.”

 

“I was being facetious.”

 

“Was that the word of the day on your calendar this morning, Danno?”

 

“Okay.” David cuts into their verbal ping-pong match, stopping the play dead. “I see you’re in good hands here, McGarrett, so I’m gonna leave you two ladies to it. I will check in later and make sure you have the follow-up you need on this guy.”

 

“Call him,” Steve points a finger at Danny. “He does our paperwork.”

 

“That I do, and aren’t I blessed.” Danny says with a whimsical sarcasm. David excuses himself, tossing a look Steve’s way that Steve can’t quite read and therefore doesn’t like. Danny tilts on his heel to watch the man go, David’s combat boots thudding heavy on linoleum, and then tilts back to Steve with a quizzical, teasing smirk on his face.

 

“Was he gray, before he met you? Or did you do that to him? Cause I sorta feel like a couple days ago when we were introduced, I swear the guy looked younger.”

 

“Unlike you, Danno, Dave finds working with me to be invigorating.” Steve twists at the waist, trying to gather his personal items from around the bed. He slips his watch back onto his wrist.

 

“Oh, believe me, working with you is ‘invigorating’ all right. What are you – what are you trying to do here.” Danny asks, both hands out in bewilderment as Steve lifts and tosses aside the pillows on the cot, twisting first this way then that.

 

“Lookin’ for my shirt.”

 

“You mean, the bloody one with the bullet hole in it? Uh, I’m guessing they threw that out, babe.” He shakes his head like he can’t quite believe Steve hadn’t figured that out himself. “But here, because I am an _awesome_ partner and can predict your idiotic run-ins with bad guys with guns…” Danny pulls out a white v-neck from a plastic bag on the bedside table that Steve hadn’t even noticed he’d brought in.

 

“Always prepared. Such a dad, Danno.”

 

“Well you are like an overgrown child.”

 

“Naw seriously, thanks, man.” Steve says gratefully and grabs the tee from Danny’s outstretched hand. With one arm, he finagles the shirt over his head and awkwardly pulls it down to his waistline. He doesn’t notice Danny attempting to help him until his face is free and clear of the clinging fabric and it settles around his collarbone.

 

Danny catches his gaze for a moment and they both still, suddenly caught in a moment neither is sure how to handle. Or at least Steve feels ill equipped to and the strange expression on Danny’s face makes him suspect it’s the same on his end.

 

“Got it, thanks.” Steve murmurs. Danny’s hand is still at his collar, fingers resting warm against his neck. It briefly registers as comforting – maybe he even likes it – before Steve remembers himself and glances downward to where Danny’s hand lingers. He smirks a little, wondering how long it will take Danny to catch up to this.

 

“Uh yeah, sure.” Danny mumbles and steps back, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. He claps his hands together once and puffs out a breath, breaking the awkward tension. “So, what’s the plan now, Rambo?”

 

“Head back to the office.”

 

Danny looks at him like he has three heads.

 

“Uh, that’s a no.”

 

“Excuse me.”

 

“You were _shot_ , the correct answer here is, you’re goin’ home.”

 

“Why even ask me what my plans are, if you’re going to turn around and try and tell me what to do?” Steve asks as he gets up from the bed. He wants to defy Danny but finds himself confounded by the lack of footwear. “Where the hell are my boots.” The ER doc had insisted he take them off, probably under some silly delusion that not having shoes would slow him down if he tried to leave, and now his desert boots aren’t where he put them.

 

“Right over there,” Danny points off-handedly with an air that there’s no way he’s going to assist Steve in getting them.

 

Steve locates the familiar tan shoes taunting him from a few paces away on the floor underneath one of those ugly-ass aluminum and green vinyl chairs. He drops himself to the uncomfortable seat with a leaden, ungraceful thud, letting gravity do the work rather than his muscles. Easing the way through the pain just prolongs it; better to do things fast like ripping off a Band-Aid.

 

Steve bends to pick up his heavy boots and his body screams in protest. He moves quickly as to not let Danny catch him wincing, but as usual Danny lets nothing slide.

 

“You could ask for help you know. I have it on good authority that it won’t _actually_ kill you.” Danny comments. “Or, wait – do they have some kind of Navy SEAL red alert for that? Maybe they deploy a special unit to bag and tag suspected pussies?” Danny jokingly gestures up to the ceiling like he expects men in black combat uniforms to come crashing through the tiles immediately and grab Steve from where he sits.

 

“What do you want me to do, Danny, ask you to tie my shoelaces for me?” Steve snipes back.

 

It would, actually, be quite helpful if Danny would tie his shoelaces, but he’s not about to ask. He leverages one foot upward onto the edge of his seat and laces up quickly, keeping his eyes defiantly locked on Danny’s the whole time. He learned a long time ago to keep strong through the pain even when alone, mind over matter, but it’s still easier when he knows someone else is watching.

 

Especially if it’s Danny.

 

“I don't need help. It’s just a flesh wound. I’m fine.”

 

“A bullet lodged in your shoulder, broken ribs –“

 

“Bruised ribs-“

 

“ – _Broken_ ribs and you look like someone used you as a piñata at a child’s birthday party…not a single one of those things qualifies as a freakin’ flesh wound. _This_ -” He gestures to Steve as a whole. “Is not what was reported when you called in. _This_ is trauma, my friend, not a boo-boo.”

 

“And the bullet’s out, it’s not ‘lodged’ anywhere.”

 

“My god, you’re the Black Knight. I’m gonna have to cut off your legs and even then you’re going to keep fighting me on this.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Black Knight. The Holy Grail?”

 

Danny’s no longer making any sense, which is a sure sign that whatever argument they’re having…Steve is about to win. He stares at Danny unflinchingly, waiting for Danny to give.

 

“Of course you don’t know Monty Python. What was I thinking.” Danny taps his own temple like he’s gone daft. “So we’re going back to HQ. Fine, whatever. I’m not your mother, do what you want.”

 

“Thanks for the permission, sweetheart.” Steve tugs sharply on the laces of his right boot, finishing up the task with a flourish and a gleeful smirk. He winks at his partner and Danny rolls his eyes.

 

“You are an idiot.”

 

“There are worse things to be,” Steve replies and stands up with a half-concealed grunt. He pats a few of the pockets of his cargo pants to make sure he’s got everything and then rests his hands on his hips.

 

He looks back at Danny to find the other man narrowing his eyes at him.

 

“I feel like there was an implied insult in there, somewhere, McGarrett.”

 

“Now you’re just being oversensitive. Can we go?”

 

“Waiting on you princess.”

 

“On me? Cause I thought we were sitting here talking about your feelings.”

 

“My _feeling_ is that we should leave this hospital so when I finally break down and try to kill you, we won’t be surrounded by all these nice and well-meaning people who would try to save your life. That’s what I’m feeling.” Danny stalks out the door. Steve lets him get a few paces out of sight, not following.

 

A moment later Danny comes back into view, frustration evident over every inch of his face.

 

“Are you coming or what?” He doesn’t wait before taking off again.

 

It takes Steve a few uneven steps to effectively mask the limp, but by the time Danny turns around to make sure he’s following, he’s managed to make it barely noticeable.

 

He’ll ice it at home. Later.

 

*******

 

 

 **October, 1993**

 

Steve rolls his shoulder, working out the tight knot that always twists up his throwing arm. Across the table, Chin rolls his own shoulder in sympathy, his muscle remembering that feeling.

 

“You use hot or cold on that?”

 

“Try to just work it out with my hands, usually,” Steve replies. His faded plaid flannel shirt is hanging in disarray off his shoulder and Steve pauses in his ministrations to slip the unbuttoned shirt all the way off and shove it aside. He digs his thumb in hard just below his collarbone and presses his fingers above his shoulder blade.

 

Chin’s dark eyes are trained on his hand, on the sideways tug of his t-shirt collar. His gaze is so intent that Steve tells himself he can’t be blamed for noticing; or for wondering what exactly it is that Chin finds so fascinating. He knows he’s not supposed to, but he likes the way Chin looks at him. It feels like approval of some kind, maybe real interest.

 

“What worked for you?” He asks, and it takes a second for the question to register properly with Chin.

 

“What? Oh, you know, brah. Heat, mostly I guess. Though nothing really helps except giving it a rest, and that’s not an option during the season.”

 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Steve commiserates. He grimaces as something in his shoulder twinges and Chin leans forward slightly, concerned. The light over the center of the booth casts shadows that send his sharp cheekbones into stark relief. It occurs to him then that he also likes the way Chin _looks_ , period.

 

“Is it really that bad?”

 

“No. It’s this damn song.” He covers, pointing upward toward the speakers lodged near the ceiling. They’re currently blaring out that “500 Miles” song that every radio station has been playing non-stop since that one movie came out. To say he’s sick of it would be an understatement. “If I hear this, or Whitney Houston warbling about how she will always love someone one more time, I might shoot myself.”

 

“What kind of music _do_ you like?” Chin inquires, reaching across the table to grab another slice of pizza from the quickly disappearing pie. Steve’s already on his fifth piece himself. His mouth feels salty and dry.

 

“Music’s not really my thing.”

 

“You don’t listen to music.” Chin is skeptical, as if he can’t believe such a person exists.

 

“I don’t actively seek it out, no.” He laughs at the expression on Chin’s face. “What? I mean, okay. Pearl Jam’s not so bad. Soundgarden, Nirvana, same as the rest of the guys ‘round here, I guess. I’ll listen to what’s on.”

 

“Well, Whitney was terrorizing me my last year of high school too, so I feel your pain on that one. I suppose not much has changed…despite the fact that I’ve recently discovered I’m old enough to not ‘get’ grunge.”

 

“You’re only, what, four years -“

 

“Five years.”

 

“Five years older than me. What are you listening to, golden oldies?” Steve kids. “You’re talking like you only listen to The Beach Boys and Elvis or something.”

 

“Don’t knock Elvis,” Chin points at him warningly. “Dude loved this place.”

 

“Who wouldn’t love this place?”

 

“Spoken like a true Hawaiian.”

 

“I _was_ born here, you know.” Steve states, hearing that defensive note in his voice that always creeps in. He can’t help it. Years of being called a _haole_ just because he’s white have had their effect, even if he tries not to let it bother him. This place is his home and he knows he won’t be here much longer. Maryland’s never seemed so far away as it has recently. “Hawaii’s in my blood, man.”

 

“I do know.” Chin points out with a small smile. “I probably know more about you than almost anybody else on this island.” Off of Steve’s confused look, he continues with an explanation. “Your dad may not talk a lot, but when he does, he talks a fair share about you.”

 

Steve’s returning smile is small, but he can’t force anything bigger. He doesn’t quite know what to do when his father enters his world. He’s always half-angry, half-thrilled.

 

Chin presses on.

 

“He told me that you’re going to Annapolis next year. USNA…that’s pretty big deal, brah. _Ho'omaika'i 'Ana_.” Chin extends his beer bottle to Steve, who clinks his glass obligingly but without heart. He sets his drink back down without taking a sip and picks up his napkin, twisting it between his fingers.

 

“McGarrett!” A group of Steve’s classmates, four guys and a few girls, plunder into JJ’s and one of them shouts Steve’s last name like a battle cry. Steve acknowledges the greeting with a nod – he has no idea what any of their names are, he thinks maybe they’re juniors – and hopes that will be enough.

 

It is, for the time being. Steve’s attention drifts back toward Chin, and for the first time feels the strangeness of being out with one of his father’s officers. One of his father’s _friends._

 

Chin Ho Kelly’s probably spent more time with his father this year than _he_ has. Chin sees him and talks to him everyday. This is the guy his own father chooses to spend his time with, and until a few hours ago, Steve wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a line up.

 

Steve settles his stare on Chin, letting the other man feel its pointed purpose of evaluation, of judgment.

 

But Steve undermines himself in a matter of moments, idle hands unthinkingly ripping up the napkin into tiny pieces. Chin’s glance occasionally dips downward to take in his busy fingers. Soon Steve has a pile of shredded paper dusting the tabletop and Chin has to know he’s feeling anxious.

 

Chin is waiting him out, leaving it up to him to pick up the conversation after the interruption. He suspects it’s an interrogation technique Chin’s learned form his father; the man always had a way of letting the silence stay unbroken until it became increasingly uncomfortable and you said something you otherwise might not have said.

 

Steve coughs and stumbles over words to get the conversation re-started.

 

“Yeah, well, congratulations…that might be a bit early. The Naval Academy isn’t set in stone, not yet. I have a Letter of Assurance but that’s no guarantee of an Official Appointment or anything. I’m still waiting to hear the final word.”

 

“You’re a McGarrett,” Chin smirks, but not meanly. “I really don’t think you’re going to have a problem.”

 

Steve brushes aside the pile of paper bits he has created and reaches for his water.

 

“You sure you don’t want to buy me a beer?” The ice cubes rattle in his glass as he drains the last of his water.

 

“I’m a cop, Steve,” Chin reminds him, but it’s clear he’s amused. “And you’re seventeen.”

 

“I’m almost eighteen.”

 

“Almost eighteen is not twenty-one.”

 

“I’ve heard stories about the keggers of your day, old man. Don’t try to tell me any different, “ Steve retorts and Chin ducks his head, hiding his smile.

 

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Chin laughs. “Or…did.”

 

“You really have been hanging out with my dad. You’ve got the hypocrisy down cold.” It sounds more abrupt and judgmental than he intended and it lands heavy between them.

 

Chin sighs and shifts in his seat, leaning back against the booth.

 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little tough on him?”

 

Steve swallows hard. He’d been enjoying Chin’s company, but this conversation’s been hanging over their heads since they left the football field.

 

“Being tough is the McGarrett way. Thought you would’ve realized that by now.”

 

“I’m being serious.”

 

“So am I.” Steve shrugs but Chin remains expectant of something more.

 

“Look. Chin. I…I know my father’s a good cop. One of the best. And I admire him and I’m proud to be his son, just like I’m proud that my grandfather died for his country out there in the harbor.” Steve sits up and leans his elbows on the table. “But I didn’t know my grandfather. He’s an abstract notion to me. And so’s my dad. I barely know the man, and he barely knows me.”

 

“He knows you better than you think. He’s your father, and he loves you.”

 

Chin leans forward now too, his hands folded in front of him on the table. Their fingers accidentally brush. Chin is looking at him with such earnestness that Steve almost feels bad for him, trying to fix something that’s so unfixable. The McGarrett family unit stopped working a long time ago, the Five-O an idea that was buried along with his mother almost two years ago.

 

Steve wants to put him out of his misery, dispel the romantic ideal Chin obviously has of his noble but taciturn mentor. He stops trying to walk that fine line between putting up a false front and airing his dirty laundry. He lays out his resentment so Chin can see.

 

“It’s interesting that you know about the Academy, because my dad, well, up until right now I wasn’t even sure he knew. I mean, I called him and left a message, but never heard a word back.” Chin’s face falls but it doesn’t give Steve the sense of victory he sought. He keeps going though, the bitterness welling up within him too hard to control. “But I guess getting into college, joining the Navy, it doesn’t warrant picking up the phone, or driving across town to my grandmother’s house to see me. Good to know.” Steve taps the table with two fingers and starts to slide out of the booth. “Thanks for the pizza, Officer Kelly, but I gotta get going.”

 

He stands up but Chin reaches out, grabs his wrist. The touch startles him and his first instinct is to try to get free.

 

Chin doesn’t let go.

 

“Steve, I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

 

He looks down at Chin, knowing it’s not the poor guy’s fault. Jack McGarrett was his idol once too. In many ways, he still is. It’s not something easily shaken.

 

Steve understands, but it doesn’t make Chin any less wrong about the whole situation.

 

“I know, man. It’s okay.” Steve relents and gently starts to pull his hand away. “But I really do have to go.”

 

“Yeah. Okay.” Chin releases his grip. “It was really good to meet you. I mean that.”

 

“Likewise,” Steve replies. “Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Chin nods and Steve nods back.

 

The island may be small, but he doubts they’ll bump into each other again. His father’s life and his own tend to be run parallel these days and Chin Ho Kelly won’t keep trying to intersect them both.

 

No one is that stubborn.

 

*******

 **Present**

 

“Well you look like shit.” Mary greets her brother as he opens the front door. “Did you get hit by a truck?”

 

“Hello to you too, Mare.” Steve steps back as she pushes her way in, luggage first. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I love it. I travel 2500 miles and that’s what I get.” She drops her bags onto the floor with an exhausted sigh. Steve doesn’t give her the satisfaction of replying, remaining infuriatingly silent and looking at her blankly instead. “Danny called me, okay?”

 

“He _called_ you? Why did he call you? Wait –“ His eyebrows furrow and he waves his hands to erase the last two questions in favor of another. “What is Danny even doing with your phone number?”

 

Mary throws herself down on the couch, legs hanging over the armrest. One of the pillows is lumpy behind her back and she wiggles around, reaching underneath her body to pull it out. She tosses it onto the floor.

 

“We’re having a _torrid_ love affair behind your back, obviously. _Danny, talk dirty to me!_ ” She cries out suddenly with hysteric passion, writhing on the couch. Mary stops as abruptly as she began and slips on a mask of seriousness. “You should see my phone bill. Astronomical.”

 

The look on Steve’s face is priceless. If only she had a camera.

 

“ _Relax,_ bro. He asked for it last time, as like, an emergency contact or whatever. In case something happened, y’know, like _that_.” She gestures up and down his bruised and battered body. His white wife beater shows off the fine collection of wounds and bandages he’s sporting.

 

“I took a hard fall after the bullet impact.” Steve puts his hands on his hips, staring her down. “The guy only had the upper hand for a minute.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re awesome, I get it. Point is, you should let your only sister know when you freakin’ _get shot_.”

 

“I’ve been shot plenty of times and I’ve never called you before.”

 

Mary ignores him but pauses in middle of getting comfortable, noticing the differences in the room around her. Some of the framed photographs and knick-knacks are gone, furniture rearranged.

 

“Did you _paint_ in here?”

 

“Yeah, I had to put up new drywall.” He shrugs. “New windows too, in case you’re wondering.”

 

“House is still half mine.” Mary sits up on her elbows and glares at him accusingly. “You could’ve asked before you started remodeling.”

 

“It wasn’t remodeling. There was some damage. Structurally.”

 

“Structurally?” She stands and goes to the windows, inspecting Steve’s handiwork with a critical eye. He always thought he was better with tools than he actually is; that’s why their dad’s Mercury Marquis is still sitting in the garage after all these years, engine in pieces. But the windows look fine.

 

Maybe he had help.

 

There is a rip in the ugly green leaf curtains – her mom hated those curtains, why did Dad ever put them back up? She pokes her finger through and wiggles it around.

 

“Is this a _bullet hole_?” Mary turns to Steve, holding the torn fabric for him to see. He rubs the back of his neck, a little sheepish.

 

“Guess I missed that one. Not a big deal, I don’t use the curtains much anyway.”

 

“What’d you do, get a little trigger happy in here while cleaning your guns?” She asks, wondering now exactly how much ‘structural damage’ he’d caused while she was back in L.A.

 

“Ah, someone thought I made good target practice.” He comments with an annoyingly passé shrug. “Fortunately, they missed.”

 

Her face must betray her concern because Steve outright laughs at her and then proceeds to misread her expression entirely.

 

“Mary, it’s just a house. Blood’s gone, mess is cleaned up, don’t worry. Hell, the place is probably in better shape than ever.”

 

She stares at him, flabbergasted. Sometimes he’s so much like their father that it confounds her. The emotional side of things just doesn’t occur to him.

 

“ _Blood?_ ”

 

“Enemy combatants.” He waves her off and continues on, stream of thought barely interrupted. “And I can buy out your half of the house if you want me to. Or if you want it, want to move back home, I can clear out, get another place. I’m only here ‘cause it was the easiest option.”

 

“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Steve,” Mary comments sarcastically. She takes a moment to look around, wondering what else she’s missed in the months since her last visit. “Have you done anything since I’ve been gone _besides_ get beat up and shot at?”

 

“I’ve surfed a little.” He offers, twinkle in his eye.

 

“And no injuries or gunfire there? I’m surprised, sounds like all you’ve done since coming back home is get into trouble.”

 

“Now you sound like Danno.”

 

Mary lets the curtain go and picks up Steve’s phone from one of the end tables. Flipping through his contacts, she sees that the recent calls list is an endless repetition of one person’s name.

 

“Yeah, speaking of ‘Danno,’” She turns the small screen toward Steve. “Exactly how long have you two been surgically attached at the hip?”

 

Steve crosses the room and grabs the phone from her hand, though it takes him a lot longer to move than she expected. She lets him take his time; she’s trying to be annoying, not mean. He petulantly shoves the phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

 

“We’re partners. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

“Right. In case you were wondering, he sounded like a panic-stricken housewife when he called me.”

 

“I wasn’t wondering, but thanks for that.”

 

“Once I got passed being worried and then being _pissed_ , the whole thing was pretty amusing.”

 

She smirks at Steve knowingly. Her brother’s always been closer to his guy pals than to any girl. First his football buddies, then his Navy brothers, now Danny. She pities the woman who thinks she’s ever going to compare, despite whatever Steve might make her _obnoxiously_ scream out in bed.

 

“How’s what’s-her-name…Catherine, by the way?” Mary walks around the room slowly, pausing every so often to inspect the seams in the new drywall.

 

Steve looks at her flatly, taking a beat before answering.

 

“Overseas.”

 

“And Kono?” Steve shakes his head at her and crosses his arms over his chest. She puts up a mocking front of innocence. “What? She’s cute, Stevie. Why should I assume there’s nothing going on there?”

 

“Co-workers, Mare. Eight years younger than me, a rookie, _and_ she’s Chin’s cousin.”

 

“Oh… _Chin._ ” Mary says more to herself than to her brother, running a finger along the wall as she gets lost in her own thoughts. “Almost forgot about him.”

 

She’d never told Steve that she knew about what happened back then, in those strange months before they both left Hawaii. There was nothing she liked better than pushing Steve’s buttons and getting him riled up, but she’d never been brave enough to push that particular one.

 

Her stomach growls, yanking her back to the present.

 

“I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat?”

 

“I have beer.” Steve replies. He moves toward her luggage. “Why don’t you throw your stuff upstairs and we’ll go out.”

 

He picks up one of her bags and Mary can see it then, how uncomfortable he really is.

 

“Christ, you’re really hurt, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m fine.” He insists, and she knows better than to argue, it’s like talking to a brick wall. Steve watches her quickly pick up the rest of her things and she can practically hear something click into place. Realization dawns on his face and under his breath he counts the number of bags she has brought with her. “Exactly how long are you planning on staying?”

 

“Not that long.” She mumbles and heads for the stairs. Steve grabs her by the back of her shirt and draws her back in front of him.

 

“Nuh-uh, Mary Ann McGarrett. Get back here.” He bends down and looks her in the eye. “You’re not home because Danny called you, are you?”

 

“Not…entirely.” She admits, pouting slightly at being caught out. Damn Steve. She’d hoped to bring this up a bit later, once she’d had some time to work it into conversation naturally, but of course he has to go and be _him_ about the whole thing.

 

“ _Mary._ ”

 

“Ok. I lost my job, all right?”

 

“Lost your job.”

 

“I got fired.”

 

“Why’d you get fired?”

 

“The why isn’t important. I need a place to stay and I thought since you never even asked before moving in here like the place was yours-“

 

“Wow, if that’s your way of asking if you can stay here…” Steve acts blown away by her attitude. She brings out her glare again.

 

“I don’t really have to _ask_ , Steve. I was going to try and be polite but if you’re going to get all high and mighty… It’s not like you’ve never been fired from a job before.”

 

“I have never been fired from a job before.” He replies and she wants to slap him. Instead she groans in frustration and turns away. “What? I have never been fired from a job before. That’s just the truth. I mean, if you want to compare case histories here, I’m gonna have to point out that Governor Jameson _begged_ me to take the job I currently have.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“People say that to me a lot, but no one ever really means it.” Steve takes her carry-on from over his shoulder and deposits it on hers. “Ditch your stuff and let’s go.”

 

“Thanks for the help.” She grunts and awkwardly pulls and drags the rest of her luggage up the stairs behind her. Steve watches her struggle with amusement, immune to her deathly glare.

 

She’s at the top of the stairs when she hears his phone ring.

 

“Danno.”

 

How not surprising.

 

“Yeah, I’d love to, but I have a houseguest. Three guesses who.” Mary can almost hear Danny’s reply from where she stands, the guy talks so loud. “I can get your mother’s number, I know people. How’d you like some visitors from Jersey?” Another pause, another garbled noise like one of Charlie Brown’s teachers. “Oh, you would not love it. You want your mother to see that hovel you live in?”

 

Steve is grinning from ear to ear as he bickers with his partner. Mary can’t see him anymore, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

 

“I can meet up but Mary’s coming with…So glad that makes you happy. Keep laughing, Danno. See you in a few.”

 

There are footsteps toward the stairs and Mary stops eavesdropping and resumes struggling with her bags, ready to huff at her brother when he appears in her line of vision.

 

“Get a move on, we’re meeting Danny in fifteen.” He heads toward their father’s bedroom, which he’s now made his. In his hurry he forgets to hide his limp, hobbling like an old man with a sore hip. “I’m gonna get changed, then we’ll go.”

 

“Yes, _sir_ ,” she salutes, rolling her eyes, but Steve’s already on the move, no longer looking at her. God forbid they make Danny wait.

 

*******

 

 

 **January, 1994**

 

When Steve comes through the wide double doors of the police precinct, anger swells up inside of her and she’s too drunk to contain it.

 

Mary whirls toward Officer Kelly, instantly forgetting the fact that up until that moment, she’d been trying to flirt with him. There hadn’t been any cops as good looking as him the _last_ time she was here.

 

“You called my brother? _Really?_ ” She’s shrieking and it doesn’t sound pleasant. In fact, she sounds like a banshee, but she can’t help it.

 

“I could call your father if you prefer.” He comments calmly, unperturbed. His face barely moves as he talks to her and his pen doesn’t waver in filling out his paperwork. It’s ridiculous.

 

“Whatever, Zen Master,” she mutters and crosses her arms over her chest, plopping back down in the orange plastic chair next to his desk.

 

Steve looks tired, hair bed rumpled. And he looks disappointed in the way that only Steve can, like he can’t quite believe he’s been saddled with _her_ as a sister. The Great Steve McGarrett deserves so much better than this, picking her up at 3am on a drunk and disorderly.

 

He barely looks at her as he walks up to Officer Kelly and she sticks her tongue out at him on principle. The cop stands to greet Steve, dropping his pen and circling his desk.

 

“ _Maholo_ , Chin.” Steve’s extending his hand and the officer grasps it firmly with his right, then covers their combined grip with his left. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, all of this.”

 

“ _A’ole pilikia,_ brah. It’s her first time in trouble, it’s the least I could do.”

 

“It’s _so_ not the first time,” Steve mumbles.

 

“You two know each other.” Mary observes, pointing between them. “Well don’t give me any special treatment just ‘cause I’m his sister. I don’t even like him.”

 

“Mary Ann, please _shut. Up._ ” Steve sighs, exhausted.

 

“I’m friends with your father.” Officer Kelly - _Chin_ , apparently – informs her. “And _that_ , young lady, is why I called your brother. I know your grandmother is out of town and how upset she would be if she found out how you behaved when you were trusted to be left alone.”

 

“You mean you’re afraid Steve-O’s gonna get reamed out for letting me get into trouble,” Mary corrects. “And don’t ‘young lady’ me, what are you, like a biscuit older than me? Can you even _shave_ yet, Doogie?”

 

“Okay, so we’re gonna go before Chin here calls takeback on his _incredibly_ kind offer of leniency.” Steve holds out his hand like he expects her to take it. She’s not sure what dream world he’s living in.

 

“I think I’d rather be locked up.”

 

Steve closes his eyes, taking a deep breath like he’s holding himself back from saying something terrible. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair and as his tattered black hoodie rides up, Mary sees Chin’s eyes catch on her brother’s exposed abs.

 

She watches him looking. A telltale tinge of pink flushes his cheeks.

 

Not so Zen after all then.

 

“So how do you two know each other again?” She asks, quite interested by this turn of events. It’s not the first time she’s been made aware that others, unfortunately, find her brother attractive – if she had a dollar for every time some classmate of hers tried to buddy up with her just to get to _him_ , she’d have enough cash to buy her own damn car – but it’s the first she’s ever witnessed another guy giving Steve a blatant once over.

 

“He knows dad, Mare.” Steve doesn’t bother opening his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “That’s dad’s fucking desk right over there, don’t pretend-“

 

“Steve…” Chin’s hand is on Steve’s shoulder now and Steve stops talking, opening his eyes and focusing on the man in front of him. Christ, this guy’s pathetic; he’s practically feeling Steve up right in front of her.

 

“Yeah, I know how he knows _Dad_ , loser. What I asked is how he knows _you_. When’s the last time you even _saw_ Dad?”

 

“Chin used to be quarterback for the Kings. That’s how I know him,” Steve says bluntly. “Now that the big mystery is solved, can we _please_ go home.”

 

“ _Fine_ , let’s goddamn _go_ then. Jesus.”

 

Steve’s taking off his sweatshirt and handing it to her, leaving him only in a thin white undershirt.

 

“What’s this for.” Mary looks at the sweatshirt like he’s giving her a ticking time bomb.

 

“It’s cold outside and you’re dressed, well, Mare…you’re kinda dressed like a hooker,” he spits out like he can’t be bothered to find a sugarcoated way to say it. “You’re not walking home like that, you’ll be freezing.”

 

“I am not dressed like a hooker.” She looks down at her hot pink halter and denim mini skirt, finding nothing wrong with the ensemble. “And why the hell did you walk? I have _heels_ on.”

 

“Like I’m going to have you drunk and puking in Grams’ car? Thanks but no thanks. You already dragged me outta bed at three in the morning to get your ass out of _jail_ , I’m not cleaning your vomit out of the upholstery tomorrow.”

 

“Sorry I’m such an inconvenience, why don’t I just stay here then and rot.”

 

“Why don’t you let me give you both a ride home. It’s too late for you to be out walking anyway.” Chin is patting Steve on the back now, stepping closer. If Steve doesn’t know this guy wants to bone him, he has to be a bigger idiot than she imagined.

 

“Bet you’d like to give him a ride,” she mumbles under her breath, glancing down at her nails and realizing sadly that somewhere between slapping Jenny Hou in the face and getting pushed to the pavement outside the bar, she chipped her brand new silver nail polish.

 

“It’s not too much trouble?” Steve angles away from her, turning his back like he and Chin are having a private adult conversation she can’t be a part of.

 

She wants to punch Steve in the face.

 

“I want to punch you in the face.”

 

Steve acts like she said nothing at all. With him on her left side and Chin on her right, they lead her outside to the squad car and bundle her into the back seat. Chin even ducks and covers her head like she’s a real criminal; all that’s missing are the handcuffs. Handcuffs would’ve been cool.

 

Steve sits up front, where the doors can be unlocked from the inside.

 

She spends the short ride home staring out the window. She would ignore her brother if he bothered to talk to her, but he doesn’t give her the pleasure. He and Chin have their own conversation, something stupid about football, and it’s like she’s not even there.

 

When Steve lets her out of the back seat, she storms past him and Officer Kelly and makes sure to slam the front door behind her as hard as she can. The force of it rattles the decorative plates her grandmother has on the wall so she figures that it was a winner. She follows suit with her own bedroom door and then flings herself onto her bed.

 

Clutching her pillow, she waits for Steve to barge into her room without knocking, followed by a whole lot of yelling about things like he’s her father, like he has any right to say what she does or how she should behave. Like having two years on her makes him ten times wiser and a hundred times more important.

 

But twenty minutes pass and nothing happens, her door remains closed. The house they share with their grandmother is small enough that she can hear anyone coming and going, so Steve must still be outside.

 

Giving in to curiosity, Mary creeps down the hallway to the living room, where she can hear the faint murmur of conversation. Chin and her brother are sitting on the front steps beside one another, bathed in the yellow glow of the porch light. They are talking quietly enough that she can’t make out what they’re saying.

 

Holding her breath, she crawls onto the couch for a better view and nudges the window open just a crack, hoping against hope that she won’t be discovered. They continue on so she must be safe.

 

“It has to be hard. Losing your mom, and then with your dad, well…having to move in with your grandmother like this. Mary’s acting out like any kid would.”

 

“I haven’t.”

 

“You’re different. You’re…stronger.”

 

Mary practically gags. And Steve was worried about her puking in the car.

 

“It’s not all about my mom. I don’t even know if it’s about my dad. She was like this before. She’s always been desperate for attention, it’s just been getting so much worse and I don’t know if my grandmother can keep handling it –“

 

“Well.” Chin interrupts as if the word itself is an explanation. Mary can’t see her brother’s face but she can picture his dopey look of confusion.

 

“Well?”

 

“C’mon, Steve. I doubt it’s easy having you as her brother. I would imagine you are a hard act to follow.”

 

“That’s not true.” He shakes his head like Chin’s words aren’t halfway plausible.

 

“It is. Believe me, between the way your father talked about you and the word around town, I was afraid I was going to have to hate you myself.”

 

He nudges Steve’s knee with his own, sending their bodies gently rocking into one another’s.

 

Steve smiles, then. She knows it simply because of the way Chin smiles back.

 

“But you don’t? Hate me?”

 

“You’re actually kind of perfect, Steve McGarrett.”

 

Mary wonders if Steve suspects he’s about to be kissed. She sees it coming a mile away, too transfixed by the idea of it to be annoyed by yet more glorious praise heaped on her brother’s shoulders.

 

The moment is there, to either break the tension or give into it, but Steve doesn’t move one way or another, physically or verbally. He _has_ to feel it, what’s coming, but maybe he’s too confused to do anything about it. That’s the only explanation that Mary can fathom for his complete lack of action.

 

Chin’s eyes flick down uncertainly toward Steve’s lips and then back up to his eyes. Mary feels like she’s watching a movie.

 

“Chin…” Steve’s voice wavers but it’s not a denial. Chin leans in and then they’re kissing. Softly, chastely, but they’re kissing.

 

It must only last a minute but it’s like the whole world stops. Her brother is kissing a _guy_. Her _brother_ is kissing a guy.

 

This is really happening. Or maybe she’s drunker than she thought.

 

“Holy fuck,” she whispers. Chin chooses that moment to pull away and Mary slaps a hand over her mouth and ducks down out of sight. The couch squeaks uncooperatively as the springs shift under her weight.

 

It must have been a coincidence in timing because neither one of them give any indication they heard her gasp or move.

 

“I’m sorry.” Chin’s voice is heavy with worry. “I…really shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“ _Hana hou_ ,” Steve whispers back, not sounding at all like the brother she knows. “Just…do it again?” Mary lifts her head to peek outside and now there are open mouths, and tongue, and _oh my god_ …

 

Someone groans, she thinks maybe Steve, and then Chin reels away like he’s been burnt. Steve nearly falls forward, off balance from the sudden lack of lips against his own.

 

“I should go. I…I have to go.” Chin stammers, ashamed and embarrassed. He practically trips over his own two feet as he races to the patrol car.

 

He doesn’t manage to get the headlights on until he’s halfway down the street. Steve hasn’t moved from where he sits on the step, staring at the place where Chin had been only a moment before.

 

“What the…” Steve mumbles to himself and shakily pushes up to stand.

 

Steve’s going to come inside and Mary has to move, but he’ll hear her if she does now. She holds her breath as the front door opens and bites back the urge to poke at him with a timely _Was that a gun in his holster or was he just happy to see you?_

 

It would be all too easy to use what she’d witnessed as ammunition, but this is too different. It’s too real. She can’t make fun of Steve for this. She doesn’t even want him to find out that she saw.

 

He doesn’t turn on the light. He doesn’t turn around and see her sitting there, only a few feet behind him. He doesn’t shake it off and go to her room to give her the hollering she’s sure he thinks she deserves. Or that he thought she deserved before when he could think about anything else besides being kissed by Chin Kelly.

 

Instead he slips into his own bedroom and shuts the door. He locks it.

 

Mary sits in the dark for a long time.

 

It’s a sobering thought, realizing maybe Steve doesn’t have it so easy after all.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

“Must you make _everything_ so difficult?” Kono hears Danny snapping as she walks into HQ. Another day at the office, then.

 

She’s surprised when she rounds the corner and finds the source of Danny’s frustration. It has nothing to do with Steve bucking protocol or acting with his liberal definition of caution.

 

“Glaciers have melted, I’ve been waiting so long for you to take your turn.”

 

Steve taps a finger against his lips as he contemplates his next move, deep in thought. Danny drums his own fingers on the table in a rapid, impatient, rat-a-tat rhythm.

 

“Some time today pal.”

 

Steve grunts, rolling his eyes.

 

“Hang on, hang on.” Steve leans forward and sets six tiles down, taking his time to carefully place each one. He’s trying not to smirk but Kono can see the edge of his mouth lifting and she knows he’s making Danny crazy on purpose.

 

“Triple letter score.” Steve adds up his new total on the small sheet of paper laying on the table between them where they’re tallying up their points. “Danny, I had no idea you sucked _so hard_ at this game.”

 

“That is not a word.” Danny points to the Scrabble board where Steve had just laid down _MUZJIKS_. “How is this a word?”

 

“You don’t believe me.” Steve acts affronted.

 

“No, I don’t believe you. Because I speak English and this is not an English word. You are making shit up.”

 

“A Muzjik is a Russian peasant. Look it up.”

 

“I will.” Danny states and gets up from the table. “I will do that, Steve McGarrett, and when I prove you a cheater, you are buying me a beer.”

 

“M comes after L and before N in the dictionary, Danny, if you need help.”

 

Danny scowls and goes into his office, only to come back out a minute later empty-handed. He then stalks into Steve’s office and starts rifling through his desk.

 

Steve puts his feet up on the table and kicks back, greatly amused with himself despite the fact that Kono knows his leisurely position can’t possibly be comfortable with all of his injuries. He wiggles his eyebrows at Kono, inviting her to relish his ability to drive Danny up a wall. He’s incorrigible, so she shouldn’t smile, but it’s hard not to. Steve can be hard-edged and tough-as-nails, but when it comes to Danny, her boss is like a gleeful kid with a new toy. He gets such joy from pushing Danny’s buttons.

 

And really, Kono is beginning to think Danny likes having his buttons pushed.

 

With a loud thwap, Danny drops a stack of papers from one side of Steve’s desk to the other. Steve pushes off from the table and sends his rolling swivel chair back a few feet so he can peek through his office door, interested in what Danny is messing with.

 

“Can I help you find something, Daniel?”

 

Danny comes back into the common room, finally taking notice that Kono has arrived.

 

“How is it that with all this high tech crazyass stuff we have in this office, we do _not_ have a simple, plain old dictionary? Y’know, two covers with lots and lots of pages in between them, tiny print.” Steve stares at him blankly and pretends not to understand. “Kono, do you have a dictionary?”

 

“Can do you one better.” She sets down the small shoe box she’s carrying and grabs her phone from her pocket. A couple of clicks and a glance at the Scrabble board to make sure she’s got the spelling right, and she has Danny’s answer. “Sorry, bro, but Steve’s right. Muzjik – Russian peasant.”

 

“Guess you’re buying me a beer.” Steve folds his arms behind his head and leans back, his triumph tempered by the small twinge of pain from his still healing wounds. His wince flickers quickly across his face like a bird would flee a predator.

 

“Let me see that.” Danny mutters. Kono holds the phone so Danny can see the small screen. He doesn’t really look all that disappointed and Kono wonders how often he picks fights with Steve just to pick a fight and not because he actually cares or has a real opinion. Half the time, they really are arguing for the sake of hearing the other’s voice come back at them.

 

“Feel free to concede defeat if you wish.” Steve surveys the two columns of numbers on the paper in front of him. “I don’t think you’re coming back from this one.”

 

“So says you.” Danny sits back down and moves his tray of letters closer, re-arranging one tile from the right end to the left.

 

“So says _math_.” Steve counters, gesturing to the score sheet.

 

“Well what can I say, I’m used to letting Gracie win when we play board games.”

 

“If you’re saying you’re letting me win, Danny, that’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard, not to mention the most untrue.”

 

“Next time we’re playing Candyland.” Danny mumbles, dumping his wooden tiles back into the velvet bag and tossing it to Steve so the other man can finish cleaning the game up.

 

“I always liked Chutes & Ladders.” Kono leans into Chin’s doorway but finds her cousin’s office empty. “Chin and I used to play for hours when he’d watch me after school.”

 

“I was always a fan of Risk, myself,” Steve shrugs and Danny barks out a sharp note of laughter.

 

“Of course you were.”

 

“What?”

 

“Seriously, what nine year old kid loves _Risk_. That game is the most boring game in the history of all games.”

 

“Battleship, Dogfight, Hit the Beach, all classics, all a good time.” Steve smiles fondly as he lists off titles on his fingers.

 

“Dogfight? Hit the Beach? Why do I feel like game night at the McGarrett household required Kevlar.”

 

“Not until we were thirteen.” Mary saunters into the room, carrying a paper bag overflowing with junk food. Chin follows shortly behind her, an open cardboard box in his arms out of which two or three potted plants are overflowing.

 

“Hey, cuz, I was just wondering where you were.” Kono watches as Chin sets down his load. “Doing a little gardening?”

 

“They’re for the office. I thought you all could use a little green in here,” Mary explains. “This place is as sterile as a gyno’s office.”

 

“Thanks for that mental image,” Danny replies, shaking his head and then poking into the bag of food she also brought in. “And she comes bearing Cheetos. Amazing woman, I love you.” He grabs both sides of Mary’s head and plants a sloppy smack of a kiss to her forehead.

 

Kono shoots Steve a questioning look, not wanting to be rude but wondering why his sister is back in town and bringing them gifts.

 

“Mary’s going to be doing some filing for us for awhile,” Steve informs her. “Making coffee, running some errands –“

 

“Generally being your bitch-“

 

“So if there’s anything you need a hand with, let her know.” Steve talks as if Mary hadn’t interrupted him at all and Kono gets the feeling that will become a regular thing around here, much like Danny and Steve’s constant back and forth.

 

“I’m going to go put this one in your office.” Mary’s off, an African violet in hand, and Steve aims an accusing finger at Danny.

 

“I’d like to state for the record that this is his fault.”

 

“How is it my fault?” Danny says, or at least Kono thinks that what he says. The mouthful of bright orange processed food makes him a bit hard to understand.

 

“What’s in the box?” Chin, always ready to defuse a Steve – Danny explosion before the powder keg ignites, points to the container Kono has with her.

 

“ _Tutu_ was going through old photographs and she gave me some snapshots to give to you.” She opens the lid and tilts the box toward her cousin so he can see the faded three-by-fives and Polaroids scattered inside. She sifts through them lightly: there’d been one she’d left on top but somewhere between here and there it must have shifted.

 

“You won’t believe, swear to god I found one of you and Steve.”

 

“Huh?” Steve hadn’t really been listening, his attention not surprisingly still on Danny, and he angles himself toward her at the sound of his name.

 

“I found a picture of you in my grandmother’s things. You guys are at some BBQ, I think it was one of Makaio’s…” For a minute she doubts herself, thinking she might have been mistaken, but then she catches sight of the photo underneath one from Chin’s sixteenth birthday. “Ah – here we go. Look, Steve, you’re a baby.”

 

“This I have to see.” Danny’s at her side before either Chin or Steve start to move.

 

“Be careful with the-“ Kono warns him, pointing at his orange powder-stained fingers, holding the photograph away from his messy hands.

 

“Just hold it there, I won’t touch it-“ Kono displays the Polaroid for him and Danny’s grin breaks a mile wide.

 

“Oh my god, Steve in his football jersey. You’re adorable, babe,” Danny teases good-naturedly and slaps Steve on his good shoulder as he comes over. “You look like such a kid.”

 

“Well I was.” Steve responds, eyeing the picture as he brushes Cheeto crumbs off the sleeve of his shirt.

 

“It’s just hard to believe, that’s all. You’re kinda like Miss Trunchbull in that way.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Nevermind. And Chin! Wow, man. Your hair is so short.”

 

“That was my first year on the job…” Chin shakes his head as the memories must come rushing back. “I kept it tight.”

 

Steve and Chin’s smiles are both fading and they glance at one another before taking a step away from her and from each other. It’s awkward enough that Kono picks up on it immediately.

 

In the picture, Steve’s got his arm thrown over Chin’s shoulder, Chin pulled close in the crook of Steve’s elbow. Steve’s got on his 5-0 jersey and an easy, loose grin. Chin has on a black tee and a giddy expression that Kono hasn’t seen in years. Not his standard calm, slow-spreading smile that’s even and steady like a clear summer day, but the intense one that’s like the sun’s rays bursting through the clouds after a rainstorm.

 

They’re both tan and happy and they look so _young_.

 

It’s funny, because she remembers looking up to her cousin then – she couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven at the time – and he seemed so old and cool and wise. She couldn’t wait to be his age. She’d been certain her life would be amazing by the time she was twenty-three. Looking at the photo now, Chin looks like a kid.

 

She doesn’t recall Steve being there or having met him, but why would she? He’d meant nothing to her at the time, and it wasn’t like he was an imposing badass Navy SEAL _then_ , and she’d been too young to find him attractive. He’d probably seemed like any other football buddy of _any_ of her cousins. She’d grown up surrounded by them so Steve wouldn’t have been anything remarkable.

 

“I, uh, I thought you two didn’t know each other back then.” Danny’s comment isn’t pointed or suspicious – more of an offhand side bar hey-didn’t-you-say? – but Kono sees Chin tense. Steve hesitates before answering, his voice forcedly casual.

 

“We didn’t, really. We might’ve run into each other or something, but we didn’t, y’know, _hang out._ ”

 

“If memory serves, I got blitzed out of my mind that weekend.” Kono’s tempted to ask him how he remembers exactly which weekend it was, but Steve’s already chiming in with his own addition to the story.

 

“And I was leaving for Plebes in like a week, I think, and it was like a non-stop party with my guys. Chances are we could’ve met and both been too drunk to remember.”

 

Her cousin is making excuses and Steve’s practically jumping out of his skin. Seeing the only two non-shakeable people she knows get shaken is an odd and unsettling experience.

 

And all it took was one photo.

 

“Y’know, Steve, you made it seem like it was go-go-go here all the time. I’d have to be on my toes, is what you said? But you’re all like, playing Scrabble and scrapbooking.” Mary pops up beside Danny out of nowhere – damn stealthy McGarretts – and peers over Kono’s shoulder.

 

“It’s a slow day, Mare. They happen.” Steve says defensively.

 

“I love how you say that like it’s a bad thing. Be glad! They’re few and far between,” Danny replies, clasping his hands together as if begging. “Let Hawaii have one day free of crazy-ass criminals. Please.” Mary shrugs and looks closer at the picture.

 

“What are we all gawking at?”

 

“Just some old photos-“ Steve starts.

 

“Steve and Chin’s long-lost friendship, apparently,” Danny comments dryly. Steve crosses his arms across his broad chest and finds an interesting spot on the ground to look at.

 

“Oh, back then Steve knew everybody a little and nobody at all.” Mary takes the Polaroid from Kono’s grip and gives it a quick glance, then tosses it back into the box like it’s of no consequence. She picks up a different one just as quickly. “Is this you, Kono? You look like you can barely walk and you’re surfing?”

 

Mary places the picture in Kono’s hand with a deliberateness that’s hard to misinterpret.

 

No one who grew up on the island would be surprised that a six year old is on a surfboard. Mary only wants her to change the subject.

 

“Danny, you’ve got a daughter, right? Kono should show her some moves on the board.”

 

Kono has to hand it to Mary; Danny can’t protest quickly enough. Chin and Steve may be instantly forgotten by Danny, but not by her. Kono stays silent and watches.

 

Chin leaves the group slowly, like a man backing away from a suspect with a gun. He slips into his office without another word and closes the door.

 

It takes Kono a bit longer to extricate herself from the situation. Mary mentioning Gracie and surfing in the same breath is like setting a pack of wolves loose on raw meat, and Danny is vicious in his need to make it clear that the first person to let Grace touch a board will get a can of Jersey whoop-ass opened up one side and down the other.

 

Luckily, Mary soon sets in on his tie and Kono uses the opportunity to take her box of photos and join Chin in his office.

 

She closes the door behind her and leans against it. The smile she offers her cousin is conciliatory.

 

“She’s going to be working here, huh?”

 

“Only for a little while. Steve’s helping her out.” Chin explains. “ _Ohana_. You know how it is.”

 

“Yeah, _ohana_.”

 

“I had to bring her in to the station quite a few times when she was younger. I don’t know if she remembers that.” He chuckles at the memory.

 

“She and Steve couldn’t be more different.” Looking out the window and its open blinds, they both watch Steve, Danny and Mary in the war room. Between the three of them there is a lot a hand movement going on.

 

“I think they’re very much the same, actually,” Chin counters. “It’s just that Steve’s always had a single-minded purpose and Mary…well, that energy goes everywhere, it has no focus.”

 

“Yeah…” Kono reaches over and tilts the blinds closed. She sets the photo box down on the edge of Chin’s desk and flips the lid once more. Chin’s been making astute observations about Steve and his tendencies since they both joined the task force, but she’d assumed they were based in his general knowledge of the McGarrett way – his experiences with Jack extrapolated and filtered down to apply to his son.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“You can ask me anything, cuz.” There’s a catch in his voice that makes her think that while he’ll never shut her down, there are things he rather hopes she’ll leave alone.

 

“You got all weird out there.” Kono lifts the photo of him and Steve and holds it between two fingers. “What’s got you rattled?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

Kono smiles weakly.

 

“C’mon, Chin.” She says and sits down across from him. “I always knew that I.A. stuff was crap, because in our whole lives, you’ve never lied to me, not once. You can bullshit a criminal in the name of the job, but you never could pull it off with family.”

 

Kono slides the picture across to Chin, leaving it in front of him.

 

“Please don’t start trying now.” She pleads earnestly.

 

“Kono…”Chin seems to be weighing his options, uneasy. “Steve and I…we were friends only for a short while. And some things happened…”

 

“What things?”

 

“Things that I shouldn’t discuss. All that matters is that those things that happened…” Chin is choosing his words carefully. “They are between me and Steve, and they are in the past. That’s where we’d both like them to stay. We’ve moved on. Can you just trust me, and leave it at that?”

 

Kono can tell Chin is being serious and while it only piques her curiosity more, she knows that it’s not her place to push it. If Chin doesn’t want her to know, she can respect that.

 

“Of course I can.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“But you know, if you ever change your mind,” Kono offers as she stands up to leave. “I’m always ready to talk. About anything.”

 

“I know. And thanks.” Chin nods and holds out the photograph for her to collect. She shakes her head.

 

“You hang onto it. Your memories, not mine.” Kono shoots him a reassuring smile and lets herself out, leaving him be. Across the room, Mary’s puttering around and scoping things out while Danny and Steve have settled into a conversation approximating normal, something about plans for Grace’s birthday and Steve kindly offering up his house for a party.

 

She gives them five minutes before something else sends Danny apoplectic, but for the moment they’re both content. The only thing that comes anywhere near to Danny’s happiness at being with Grace is Danny talking about Grace to Steve.

 

Likewise, Steve’s never more open and friendly than when it concerns Danny and his daughter. Kono’s not sure if it’s Grace or Danny that has him wrapped around their little finger the most, but it’s rare to see Steve bend so easily and willingly as he does with them.

 

That’s why she hates to break up the moment, but there’s a question at the forefront of her mind that will only confirm her suspicions and her curiosity makes her impatient.

 

“Hey boss – when you came back to the island, y’know, whenever you were on leave from school or the Navy, did you have your truck then?”

 

“Naw, I only came back a couple of times, so I drove around my dad’s Marquis. Why?” Steve replies, not thinking much of it. Mary looks at her sharply.

 

“Just wondering how long you’ve had your pick up. Thinking that I need to get something with a little more horsepower, maybe four wheel drive, if I’m gonna keep up with you guys. I was gonna ask how your truck’s been, but if you’ve only had it for these past few months…”

 

“It’s been great so far.”

 

“He hasn’t totaled it in a high speed pursuit, so that’s a plus.” Danny chimes in. “Frankly, I can’t believe the Camaro’s still in one piece.”

 

“Says the Jersey driver.” Mary snorts.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong with Jersey?”

 

“It’s _New Jersey_ for starters. You all drive like morons.”

 

“Now you’ve done it, Mare. Now I’m going to have to listen to the rundown of how amazing Jersey is for the fiftieth time this week. Thank you for that.”

 

“Oh yes, Danny, please enlighten me as to the wondrous ways of the Bridge and Tunnel life,” Mary eggs Danny on.

 

And they’re off again. Kono leaves them to it.

 

It may be a slow day for the 5-0, but she suddenly has a lot to think about.

 

*******

 

 

 **June, 1999**

 

“Chin! C’mon, cuz!” Kono pounds exuberantly on the thin aluminum of his front screen door. “Open up!”

 

She’d hit the beach at 6am hoping to catch some good waves. Chin had promised to meet her there, but hours had slipped by with no sign of him. It’s not like him to ditch out so eventually she gave up the water and headed inland to his apartment.

 

His motorcycle is out front by the curb. A large black car the size of a small boat is taking up all the space in the cracked cement driveway Chin shares with the folks in the apartment upstairs. It’s the kind of car their Uncle Ke’ala used to drive as a detective for HPD; now the thing just looks like a gas-guzzling tank.

 

Chin must be pissed that someone bogarted his parking spot, he hates leaving his bike on the street.

 

“Chin! Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping, brah!” Kono grabs the key from the ledge above the door and lets herself in. It’s a pretty normal practice; she’s over here most every day. “Officer Kelly…!” She sing-songs as she steps into the living room.

 

The apartment is dim, the curtains drawn. One of Chin’s shirts is crumpled on the floor and it strikes her as odd because her cousin has only become more obsessively tidy the older he gets. Kono lets the door fall closed behind her and takes stock of her surroundings. The lampshade on the end table is knocked slightly skewed. Chin’s work bag, gun belt and holster are on the couch instead of stowed in the front hall closet.

 

Everything else is as it should be, except a pair of men’s black leather shoes, two sizes too big to be Chin’s, tossed carelessly on the middle of the tiled floor. They’re heavy and hard enough that it hurts like a bitch when she stubs her flip-flop clad foot against them.

 

Kono swears sharply. Chin doesn’t walk out of the kitchen with an admonishment of her foul mouth; the apartment remains silent. She can’t smell any coffee brewing so Chin must be sleeping. The first thing he does after waking is stumble half-blind to the coffee maker.

 

She stoops to pick the shoes up and sets them safely out of the path to the kitchen.

 

“Hey! Chin!” Kono says a bit more sharply. “Did you forget about our surf?”

 

Her hand lifted to knock on his bedroom door, she’s stopped as it abruptly opens and Chin slips out into the hallway. He closes the door immediately behind him. His hair is a mess and he’s clad only in boxers – those horribly tacky ones covered in a police badge print that his mom got him for Christmas last year. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink and his usually pale lips are pink and swollen like he’s been eating bowlfuls of cherry shave ice.

 

Kono couldn’t be sure because it’d happened so fast, but she swore that with the short glimpse she’d stolen of his room, she’d seen that his bed hadn’t exactly been left empty.

 

“Kono. Hey. Uh…”

 

“Oh, shit, cuz. I’m sorry.” Kono blushes and steps back, giving Chin some room.

 

“Don’t swear,” he admonishes automatically and Kono’s blush turns brighter and she giggles nervously.

 

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that you…” She doesn’t quite know how to say it. She knows what she almost walked in on, that her cousin definitely has some girl in his bed, but the notion of Chin having sex with anyone is both awkward and hilarious. “I thought we were surfing this morning. But, uh, I see that you’re busy, so, I’m gonna go.”

 

“I forgot, Kono, I’m sorry. I…a friend came in from out of town last night and to be honest I think I had a bit too much to drink.” Chin’s got a better handle on himself now; he seems more awake and less embarrassed. “Don’t tell your mom. Or my mom, for that matter. I’m supposed to be a good role model for you.”

 

“You’re 28, dude. You’re allowed a hangover. Your friend, she still here?” Kono plays innocent, biting her bottom lip. She’s never been able to make Chin squirm before, never been able to bug him about his love life. It’s time for payback for his never-ending teases about her huge crush on Soo-Kwon in the fifth grade. Chin had thought he was _so_ funny.

 

“Oh, uh…no.”

 

“Really.” This time she can’t help laughing a little. Chin’s terrible at this. Perfectly timed, a rather loud snore comes rumbling from behind the closed door and Chin flushes pink underneath his tan. “I see.”

 

“Okay, so there might be someone in my room –“

 

“Someone with sinus problems, even –“

 

“And I think that’s embarrassment enough for one morning.” Chin comes clean and then takes her by the shoulders, turning her around and directing her back down the hallway. “You’re 15 and there are some things you should not know.”

 

“But I’m 15 and I _do_ know-“

 

“Well I’d prefer to pretend you don’t, okay?”

 

“Ooookay, cuz.” She lets him push her back toward the living room, only putting up a little protest mostly for show. She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “I see how it is. You get a little tail and suddenly I’m surfing on my own. I’m going to blame you when Ian doesn’t sign me.”

 

“Water woman, you’re as good as pro already,” Chin compliments her easily, truthfully, and damn him for making her smile. “You’ve been better than your old cousin on that board since day one. You don’t need me.”

 

“But I like surfing with you.” It comes out close to a whine but she lets it remain as it is because it’s the truth. Despite the size of their family and all the people she could possibly connect with, Chin’s still the only one who has ever really understood her. It’s always been simple with him, as easy as waves meeting the shore.

 

“We’ll go out tomorrow, yeah?”

 

“You sure you won’t be…busy?” Kono grins and Chin nudges her toward the front door.

 

“Out, out, out,” he says sharply as he forcefully moves her down the hall, but his grin undermines his words.

 

“Kay, kay, I’m going. Pushy, pushy.” Kono stops at the front door, hand on the knob. “Ben said getting laid was supposed to mellow a guy out but-“

 

“Why are you talking to Ben Bass about ‘getting laid’?” Chin interrupts, a quarter teasing and three quarters dead serious with concern. A surge of both affection and impatience towards her cousin swells within her, the contrary feelings growing nothing but familiar these days. She imagines that this is what other girls talk about when they say they love their dads but sometimes want to kill them.

 

Chin wanting to protect her makes her grateful and frustrated at the same time.

 

“Ben and I are just friends, cool down,” Kono laughs because the only other choice is getting angry, and she doesn’t feel like getting angry right now. “Boys and girls can talk about sex without having it, cuz.”

 

“Where did my innocent little Kono go?” Chin asks as Kono opens the front door. “I remember when boys gave you cooties, young lady.”

 

“Don’t worry, when I’m off traveling the world, catching the best waves and meeting all kinds of awesome people, I will strive to live up to the fine example of purity and chastity you’ve set for me – oh _wait_ …” Kono taunts, pausing in the open doorway and turning to punch Chin on the shoulder with a wide laugh.

 

“ _Hoahanau_ , you’re _kolohe_ today.”

 

“Yes, poor Chin, having to deal with me.” She steps into the hug he always offers whenever they part ways. She pats his shoulder as he lets go. “Word of advice, brush the teeth before going back in there, brah. Serious case of morning breath.”

 

“Kono?” Chin lets go of her and steps back inside.

 

“Yeah?”

 

He gives her a pointed look and shuts the door. Kono spins on her heel and bounds down the front steps with a light step, her good mood buoyed by this new development in Chin’s life. She wonders who the girl is, and if she’ll be sticking around. Her aunt’s been on Chin’s case to find someone for a while now. Since he has his job entirely in order, Kono figures it makes sense for Chin to find the next piece of the puzzle and fit it into place. The only thing that rivals police work in their family is the expansion of the family itself – sometimes she thinks her grandparents would be happiest if they could count the whole island as relatives.

 

Kono pauses alongside the black behemoth in the drive – a Mercury, she sees now, and probably just as old as she thought – and peeks into the driver’s side window.

 

There’s not much to see but there are a few things on the passenger’s side seat. She circles around to get a closer look.

 

A U.S. Navy ball cap and a black leather wallet, small and simple enough to be a man’s, lay on the black vinyl seats. Some papers are stacked underneath, but she can’t make out anything legible.

 

In the back seat there’s a canvas bag, military green and the kind of durable that could probably weather a hurricane. There should be a name stenciled on it somewhere, but it must be facing the seat back because she can’t see any sign of it. Leaning closer doesn’t reveal anything more about it. Merely a standard issue duffel, not even packed full.

 

So Chin’s got himself a military gal. That’s good, she supposes. Maybe she has the same grace-under-fire calm-in-the-storm capabilities as Chin. Hopefully she’s got a bit of warmth and compassion too, because she can’t see Chin with anyone entirely hard-nosed or uptight.

 

The rest of the car is empty, completely void of any signs of personality or use. Maybe it’s borrowed, or rented, or barely used. Either way, there aren’t many clues to be had about Chin’s new mystery girl.

 

Kono backs away from the window. She left a smudge on the glass but she doesn’t have anything to clean it off with so she leaves it be. Throwing one last look back at Chin’s place, she hops on her moped and cranks the engine.

 

Whoever this girl is, she better not break her cousin’s heart. That’s really the only opinion she has on the matter.

 

*******

 **Present**

 

Danny takes a seat at the bar and lets his defenses melt into the floor as swiftly and smoothly as the scotch sluices warmly down the back of his throat.

 

Relaxation. He seems to recall that it felt something kind of like this. It’s been awhile since he’s had it, so he might be mistaken.

 

He’ll never be glad that he doesn’t have Gracie for the weekend, but he has to admit that sleeping in ‘til well after noon tomorrow holds a distinct appeal. Peace and quiet and nothing to disturb him; it’s a rarity that he’s going to appreciate with every bone-tired, worn-down fiber of his being.

 

Danny had thought a slow few days at the office would be a blessing – Steve could recuperate, he could catch up on the endless amount of paperwork Steve’s shenanigans pile up on his desk – but it turns out that Mary, despite having the outward appearance of being more personable and humane than Steve, is a lot more like her brother than one first imagines. In that she drives him _nuts_.

 

He could sleep for years, Rip Van Winkle style. He doesn’t think he’ll even mind the uncomfortable spring right smack in the center of his fold out bed that jabs him in the back at all ungodly hours of the night.

 

“Damn, that’s good.” Danny murmurs to himself as he polishes off his tumbler and signals the bartender for a second.

 

“Make that one for me too,” a deep voice comes from behind him. Danny turns and finds David, Steve’s SEAL buddy, taking the seat next to him without waiting for an invitation.

 

“Well hello,” Danny greets him. He can only manage to get his hackles slightly raised. “You…are still in town. How ‘bout that.”

 

“Got a few more days here, have some things to wrap up. How are you doin’, Danny.”

 

“A couple of these and I’ll be doin’ fine.” Danny thanks the bartender and picks up his glass, fingers kissing the rim. “I have the day off tomorrow and I plan to sleep, eat, and then sleep some more.” He ticks off his list of activities on the fingers of his other hand.

 

“That sounds like a very nice day.”

 

“Huh. Do SEALs sleep? ‘Cause sometimes I think you must just plug in somewhere and recharge. You know, bleep-bleep-bloop, ching-chang, off you go.”

 

David looks at him and his lips quirk into a small smile of amusement. Danny has to wonder if they teach that expression at basic training or if it’s something they all pick up along the way.

 

“You’re a funny little man, Dan.”

 

“Steve told me that you were one of his instructors. He pick up the lovely attitude from you then?” Danny narrows his eyes at the older man, not that entertained. It’s one thing when Steve pokes fun, but this guy barely knows him.

 

Of course, Steve was taking pot shots the second they met, but now it seems like every single criticism or complaint he launches at Danny, there’s an undercurrent of real affection that cuts the venom completely. Nothing stings in the slightest; hurts less than any zingers his brother used to send his way. Sometimes Steve’s little jibes actually make him feel warm inside, happy even – not that Steve needs to know that.

 

There’s no affection coming from David. Just a kind of contemptuous amusement, like Danny’s a court jester sent in to please the king and his men.

 

“Let me ask you this,” Danny starts, feeling his muscles start to go rigid again the way they do when something’s got him worked up. “I thought the military was all about codes and regulations and honor, about taking orders and following instructions. So how is it that Steve, Mr. Fly-Off-the-Handle, Leap-Before-I-Look, Hey, Let-Me-Hang-This-Guy-Off-a-Rooftop McGarrett did not get his _ass_ kicked out of your prestigious military organization, let alone be considered your best and brightest? Because I cannot _believe_ that you all let his devil-may-care bullshit fly over there.”

 

David looks at him intently for a long moment, his eyes flicking over Danny’s face.

 

Danny waits. He may have just gone too far but he’s okay with that.

 

“The Steve McGarrett I know is more than capable of following orders. He knows the rules, Williams, and he can certainly play by them. The U.S. Naval Academy doesn’t accept anything less. Hundreds of candidates don’t even make it through the first year.”

 

“Yeah, okay – I don’t think we’re talking about the same Steve McGarrett here. Tall, tattoos, likes to stare at things like he can kill them with his eyes?”

 

“Fact is, Steve was always an exemplary candidate. He fell in line straight and steady and he stayed there as long as he was needed to. High academic marks, captain of the football team, unanimously recommended for entry into the SEALs. I don’t believe he was ever docked for insubordination of any kind before coming under my training, if I am remembering his file correctly.”

 

“Really.” Danny can’t quite imagine it, Steve shouting “Yes Sir!” and “No Sir!” and doing things one way when surely Steve had a better, far more aggressive and possibly illegal idea about how it should be done.

 

“Yes, really.” David replies, disbelieving of Danny’s disbelief. “But we don’t create followers. We create leaders. Steve is a leader. And to be a leader, you do have to know how to follow orders, but more importantly, you have to know how to give them. You have to be able to take other men’s lives in your hands and keep them safe. You have to know when rules need to be bent and broken and you need to be able to do what needs to be done. Being in the SEALs, you’ve got to think on your feet and be ready for anything.”

 

David looks Danny square in the eyes and if Danny wasn’t vaguely threatened by the intensity he found in David’s gaze, he’d swear the man was reading from a teleprompter for a recruitment video.

 

“McGarrett kept his men safe.” David is defiant, a bit angry that Danny dare impugn Steve’s good name by showing any doubt of his competency. “He got the job done. There’s not a man I know that wouldn’t be willing to serve under him again at a moment’s notice, and that’s saying something.”

 

Danny knows this already. Despite Steve’s constant setting to full power, fire on all cylinders, in a dire situation there’s no one he could imagine more capable of saving the day. It’s just that not every day, every case, every situation, needs that kind of desperate call to action. Not every day requires gung-ho full-on ninja attack mode.

 

Some days you want to question a suspect in a by-the-books fashion, solve the case and go home. Some days that’s really all that’s needed to do a good job.

 

And some days you want to lay in a hammock, eat malasadas and watch the sun go down. Instead of say, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to swim five miles before spending all one’s free time investigating the cold case one’s dead father left behind, like he’s sure Steve does.

 

“While I appreciate the ad campaign, I really do,” Danny puts his hands up in surrender, like David’s won this battle. But not the war. “You’ve only proven my point. Which is that you guys can _not_ turn it off. Everything is life and death to you, whether it’s catching bad guys or going for a hamburger. This is Hawaii, this isn’t the ‘stan!” His voice is rising, lifting, and there goes his hope for relaxation. He’ll be winding down from this the rest of the night. Steve should really sign a contract with the pharmaceutical companies, they could make a fortune having Steve send people’s blood pressure through the roof and then selling meds to bring it back down.

 

“The ‘stan?”

 

“Afghanistan. That’s what you people call it, right? I mean, I lost my special SEAL decoder ring but I think I remember that one.”

 

David shakes his head at him and picks up his drink. He takes a short sip and then shakes his head again, laughing at some joke only he knows is funny.

 

“Tell me something, Detective Williams. Do you consider yourself to be good at your job?”

 

“As a matter of fact I do.”

 

“And do you consider Steve McGarrett to be good at his job?”

 

“Despite the amount of crazy I deal with on a regular basis, yes, I do.”

 

“Then what, precisely, is your issue?”

 

“My _issue_ is that he’s constantly putting himself in danger for absolutely no good reason.”

 

“Ah.” David smiles a kind of smile that is all too self-satisfied for Danny’s liking. If he wasn’t sure that David could wipe the floor with him twice over, he might have been tempted to try and smack it off his face.

 

“’Ah.’ Ah, what? What does that mean?” Forget the odds. He’s punched Steve before; it might not be so bad to punch this guy. It’d probably even be better.

 

“It means that there are some emotions you take with you on the job, and some you leave at home where they belong. Best you figure out what baggage you’re carrying with you before it drags you and everyone else down.”

 

David polishes off his drink and stands up.

 

“You’re all such cryptic bastards. I thought you were all trained in communication but I’m thinking that’s a big lie.” Danny holds up his hands far apart to show exactly how big he thinks that lie is.

 

David pats the wooden bar top once and then backs away.

 

“Enjoy your day off, Williams.”

 

He leaves Danny sitting there alone, confused and riled. Not two things he likes to be.

 

It doesn’t hit him until David’s already out the door that the man didn’t even bother to pay.

 

“God damn Navy shitheads can’t pay for their own god damn drinks,” he mutters angrily under his breath. He slams the last of his second scotch fast enough that it burns and asks for another while he digs his cell phone out of his pocket.

 

“Yeah, Danny?” Steve greets him brusquely; voice husky and a little breathless like he just chain-smoked his way through a pack and drank a fifth of whiskey to follow it up. Which means he either fell asleep early, the rat bastard, or he just successfully kicked someone’s ass in a way usually only acceptable in a UFC ring. Given that it’s Friday night and as far as Danny knows, no danger has befallen the island, he guesses it’s the sleeping option. Though with Steve, you never know.

 

“Just wanted you to know that I despise you and you’ve made my life nothing but hell since the second you walked into it, that’s all. I’m hanging up now.”

 

“Danno, you talk so sweet.” Steve replies, voice dropping low and sensuous and it makes Danny want to punch a hole through the wall. Because he wants Steve to keep talking _just like that_ , enough that he can’t follow through on his threat to hang up.

 

“Call Chin and Kono, meet me down here.” He doesn’t bother saying where here is, he knows Steve knows. Because Steve has probably picked up on all the background noises and deciphered exactly where he’s at, probably even where he’s standing in relation to the door. And if he hasn’t, he’s activating the GPS chip in his phone and tracking his position as they speak. “If I can’t relax, I’m getting hammered and I’m taking you down with me.”

 

“Way to make an offer I can totally refuse.” Steve chuckles deeply. Danny wants to throttle him. That might be the first thing he does when Steve gets here, forget the fact that Steve’s ribs aren’t healed yet and he still cringes whenever he stands up and thinks that no one notices. Danny lets him have that, doesn’t pierce the armor by pointing out that no, Steve is not actually a superhero.

 

But he stands close by in case Steve stops pretending and needs Danny there to catch him if he falls.

 

So maybe he doesn’t want to throttle Steve at all, and that only makes him want to throttle Steve more.

 

“You can refuse it, but you won’t. Because I’m telling you I need your ass down here. There’s a bottle of booze with our names on it. I actually have a Sharpie right here and I am writing as we speak.”

 

He can hear Steve’s hesitation buzz over the phone line and he sighs.

 

“What, you in your p.j.’s? Throw on some pants, get in the truck.” Danny hears the squeak of mattress springs and through his vague surprise that Steve actually _was_ in bed already, he feels victorious. “There ya go, babe.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in fifteen, let me get dressed.” There’s a huff over the line as Steve must be getting up from bed, and the jangle of a belt buckle.

 

The image of Steve standing half-naked in the center of Danny’s own living room, pulling on a pair of well-worn jeans in the dim half-light of morning, invades Danny’s imagination unbidden and Danny stammers out something unintelligible into the phone and fumbles it back into his pocket.

 

“I hate that guy.” Danny says to himself, well aware that it’s beginning to sound less like an insult these days and more like a self-help mantra.

 

“Then why’d you call him?” The bartender asks as he fills Danny’s glass a fourth time.

 

“Please don’t be one of those bartenders who offers their opinion, man. Don’t be that guy.” Danny pleads and the man backs off quickly.

 

At least that’s proof that there’s some people on this island who know what boundaries shouldn’t be broken.

 

Danny’s beginning to think he’s not one of them.

 

*******

 

 

 **September, 2010**

 

Danny stares at the open case file in front of him, flipping one of the photos up at the corner to peek at the autopsy report underneath.

 

Not that there’d been much need for an autopsy. The damage of the gunshot blast told the story pretty plainly.

 

He looks at the portrait of the man in uniform that supposedly matches the mess of a face on the corpse of the picture underneath. It’s hard to believe that it’s the same guy.

 

McGarrett was one of the HPD’s own. For years and years – assumed to be a lifer until he’d grabbed retirement the split second the option was up. He’d heard some boys in the break room expressing their surprise McGarrett went out the way he did, murdered in his own living room. They’d all figured he’d drop dead on the job some day, not end up a victim of the kind of horrible crime he’d spent his whole life trying to stop.

 

Danny sighs and runs his hands through his hair, glances at the clock. He has to go pick up Grace for school, steal a precious few minutes with her that will have to last him until the weekend.

 

He flips the manila file folder closed and shoves a few loose papers back into it. Damn this case. He doesn’t know how he ended up with it. A guy with blood this blue, he’d have thought all the cops on the force would be vying to get their hands on the asshole who did this to Jack McGarrett.

 

Instead everyone looks at him like he drew the short straw.

 

Of course, it’s hard to tell the looks of pity from the ones of derision and suspicion. Screw this island and the people on it. And damn Rachel for dragging their daughter to this tropical hellhole, knowing he’d have no choice but to follow if he ever wanted to see Grace for more than a few days a year.

 

He’s in the process of looking for his car keys when one of the clerks unceremoniously drops a new report onto his desktop.

 

“Here’re the ballistic results you were looking for.” The clerk is off again without so much as a smile. People can say what they want about Jersey, but he’s never gotten a colder shoulder than he has here. Guys keep calling him a howlie or some Hawaiian shit like that, and he has no idea what they mean.

 

“Thank you ever so much, lovely to see you too!” Danny calls after the clerk with overdone politeness, his loudness earning him a couple of sideways looks from across the room. He doesn’t care. Let them look at the loudmouth from the mainland, cause this loudmouth’s gonna bust Victor Hesse while they’re all sitting around with their thumbs up their asses.

 

If he ever catches a break, that is.

 

He takes a peek at the report, expecting to find nothing helpful. That’s the kind of day he’s having, so he doesn’t bother to hope it will change.

 

Yet it does.

 

“Fred Doran, who might you be?” He enters the name into the police database and up comes a rap sheet that requires scrolling and scrolling and even more scrolling downward. The gun that killed McGarrett has certainly been used before on the island, and by this lowlife scum to do some serious damage. He looks at the photo. “Looks like we have a winner.”

 

This guy’s gotta be connected to Hesse somehow for his gun to wind up in Hesse’s hands.

 

His cell phone rings out with the theme from COPS and he answers the call with a smile.

 

“Meka, you sonofabitch, how’s narcotics treatin’ ya?”

 

“Miss you, bro. Life isn’t the same without my pale shadow followin’ me around.”

 

“Well hey man, you’re the one who left-“

 

“Got transferred, got transferred, brah. Weren’t no choice.”

 

“So you say. You probably just didn’t want to be stuck with the only white boy on the force.”

 

“You ain’t the only one.”

 

“Only one they keep calling a howlie or whatever. You ever gonna fill me in on that one?”

 

“Don’t listen to ‘em, dude. _Haole_ ’s just a word.”

 

“You are aware that’s not an answer, right?”

 

Meka only laughs in response.

 

“Look, hate to cut this short, but what’s up? I’m on my way out the door to get Grace.” Danny stands and starts collecting the things he needs to hit the road, finally finding his keys in his top desk drawer. He glances at the clock again, seconds ticking by.

 

“No worries, man. I understand. Just wanted to give you the heads up, McGarrett’s son is back in town for the funeral.”

 

“Oh, that’s today, isn’t it.” Danny runs a hand over his face. Days are blurring together now, punctuated by brief bursts of clarity that are his times with his daughter. “Well, shit. Guess I’ll have to bring him in while he’s here, see what other light he can shed on this whole mess.”

 

Meka laughs again and Danny is flabbergasted.

 

“You’re laughing – why are you laughing? Something I should know about?” He asks as he heads for the door, brushing past a few officers who seem pretty comfortable taking up the whole hallway as they drink their morning coffee.

 

“Just…be careful with Steve McGarrett, man.”

 

“You know the guy?” He walks outside the heat hits him like he’s walked into a wall. Some paradise – it’s an endless monotony of perfect days and perpetual headaches from squinting into the sunlight. He crosses the parking lot to the Camaro he’d bought with his half of the proceeds from selling his and Rachel’s house. The only good thing to come out of the whole shitty divorce, he feels like he’s driving an elaborate _fuck you_ billboard up to Rachel’s front gate whenever he picks Grace up.

 

“Know of him.”

 

“You’re being infuriatingly vague, Meka man.” Danny unlocks his car and tosses all his paperwork across to the passenger’s side seat. The bright pink and white stuffed bunny is in the back seat, luckily inanimate and therefore unaffected by the suffocating hot box his car has become in the grand total of an hour he’s spent inside the station. He’s already sweating and he hates it. There’s not a deodorant in the world that can deal with Hawaii. “Doesn’t matter. I can handle McGarrett’s son, believe me.”

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

“Warn me? You’ve warned me of nothing but to be careful, which I always am, so this whole conversation seems like an exercise in futility.” Danny climbs into the Camaro and balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slides the key into the ignition.

 

“From what I’ve heard, the dude’s basically Captain America – “

 

“He wears tights? Spandex tights?”

 

Meka lets out a frustrated sigh and Danny chuckles gleefully.

 

“You know, it’s hard to believe we’ve only been apart a week. It’s been so peaceful, it’s felt like months.”

 

“Ha ha. You miss this mouth, Hanamoa.” He backs out of his parking spot, thinking he should maybe hang up and drive already. But he likes messing with Meka, it reminds him of trading barbs with his brother back home. Meka’s the only person on this godforsaken island who feels like a real friend.

 

“I feel badly for whoever your next partner is, Danny. I really do.”

 

“You’re just worried I’m gonna love him more than you.”

 

“Maybe he’ll drive _you_ up the wall instead. That’d be a nice change of pace.”

 

“I somehow doubt that’s gonna happen.” Danny turns out onto the main road and heads toward Rachel’s neighborhood, where the houses are bigger than his entire apartment complex. “So listen, I gotta go, but maybe we can meet up for a beer later?”

 

“Sure thing man. You can let me know how it goes with the Lieutenant Commander.”

 

“With who?”

 

“Steve McGarrett.” Meka waits a beat, and then clarifies some more like Danny needs it. He doesn’t. “Jack’s son.”

 

“Lieutenant Commander, eh? Impressive. Ten bucks says he’s a schmuck.”

 

“I’ll take that bet.”

 

“All right then. See ya tonight, you’re buyin’.”

 

“We’ll see, braddah.”

 

Danny ends the call and tosses his phone on top of his file folders. He’ll get to Rachel’s with some time to spare, maybe he can squeeze in a phone call about getting surveillance set up on Doran’s place. Then he can drop Grace at school and swing by the McGarrett place and go over the crime scene again. Maybe Doran was there, maybe there’s something he missed.

 

But somewhere between his stuffed rabbit being upstaged by the real Mr. Hoppy and finding the broken crime scene seal on the McGarrett back door, Danny realizes that despite the hit on Doran’s gun, he’d been right the first time. Today is not going to be easy.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

“The only easy day was yesterday.”

 

Chin watches Steve lean in close to Danny to speak into his ear. The music’s not even that loud, but it doesn’t stop Steve’s lips from almost brushing Danny’s skin as he talks.

 

“That’s the SEAL’s motto.”

 

“What an optimistic lot you all are,” Danny retorts flatly, taking another drink of beer. He’s got his free hand in his pocket and his eyes focused out on the crowd, but his entire body is angled toward Steve in a way that speaks volumes, like Danny doesn’t even know how needlessly close they’re always standing to one another or how his body language is giving away everything between them.

 

“If that’s your excuse for only being on your second beer of the night, McGarrett, you’re going to need to find something better.”

 

“Just sayin’, you never know what’s around the corner.” Steve doesn’t really care; he’s needling Danny. Danny had asked them all out to let off steam and he and Kono had obliged. It’d been welcome.

 

Steve showed up. And that’s pretty much all that can be said on his account.

 

He’s still on the far side of sober, kicking back and watching them all stumble toward shit-faced.

 

“You gotta be ready, Danno.”

 

“What does it matter? You could probably shotgun a six-pack and still be okay to fight off a pack of ninjas.”

 

“Ninjas?”

 

“ _Loosen up_ , and take your pick of any of the hundreds of ladies who have mentally undressed you as we’ve been standing here.” He gestures out to the bar as if it’s filled with women clamoring to get closer.

 

In truth, most everyone has given Steve and Danny an unexpectedly wide berth. Despite Danny’s words it’s like he’s unconsciously sending out some protective barrier to keep admirers at bay. _Hands off, he’s mine._

 

“How do you know they weren’t undressing you?” Steve counters, turning entirely to face Danny and resting his arm on the bar. Danny raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

 

“Me?” He scoffs, pointing to himself and then Steve. Chin’s not sure how he does it, but he manages not to spill his beer all over the floor as his hands gesticulate wildly back and forth between them. “I’m standing next to you. No woman is going to be picturing _me_ naked when I am standing next to _you._ It’s that simple, my friend.”

 

“Oh, is that true?” Steve smirks good-naturedly like he thinks Danny’s full of shit but isn’t going to argue. The thing about Steve is, he never quite understands why other guys have a hard time with women, especially if the guy’s a friend. If Steve likes him, why wouldn’t everyone? Chin knows that right now, Steve truly and honestly believes that Danny could get any girl if he wanted to if he only tried.

 

“You’re the biggest cock block I’ve ever met,” Danny complains.

 

“I sincerely doubt that.” Steve lifts his beer bottle to his lips and takes a long drink. Danny watches him, hooded eyes trained on Steve’s throat as he swallows.

 

“They’re actually getting kind of ridiculous.” Chin states, startling Kono beside him. She’d thought she’d been quiet, coming to stand at his side, but he’s known she was there since the second she walked up. He tilts his head toward her, mouth quirking up in a small smile.

 

“Yeah, they are.” Kono sighs, and crosses her arms over her chest. Ice cubes clink in her empty glass. “It’s kind of sad to see that much going unsaid between two people.”

 

Chin knows that tone of voice. And he knows that look, that one that says _subtext, cousin, subtext_.

 

“Kono,” he begins warningly, but it’s too late for that. He could ignore her, but it would only delay the conversation, not stop it.

 

“Chin, come on. It’s me.” She sets a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “And you’ve been staring at him all night.”

 

Chin’s first instinct is to deny it but the words fail him. His eyes flick toward Steve and Danny guiltily – their shoulders are touching, arms brushing, Steve’s smiling – and it’s not in him to keep up the façade. His whole body slumps and Kono reaches down, takes his hand.

 

She doesn’t let go until they are outside.

 

He takes a seat beside her on the stone wall that separates the bar from the beach and draws in a deep breath. The air is cool and salty and feels good on his skin after the cramped heat from the bar. The water and the sky stretch out forever and both are so dark it’s hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.

 

“So.” Kono starts, pushing her hair behind her ear. The light from the neon signs in the bar windows are enough for him to clearly see the earnestness in her gaze. “This thing with Steve, whatever it is…how long has it been going on?”

 

“It’s not going on.”

 

“Well, when did it end then?”

 

“Kono…” Chin swings his legs over the side of the wall and faces the ocean, wishing he didn’t have to do this. He wants to jump down to the sand and keep walking until he hits water. “Steve and I…to talk about the _end_ , I mean…we barely even started. We were kids. We were stupid. He didn’t know any better and I…well I should have.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Chin frowns, tensing as she reaches out to touch him, and Kono eases back. “I’m only trying to understand.”

 

“It means that Jack McGarrett was there for me in every way he should have been there for Steve. I looked up to the man like a father, Kono. And I saw how things _were_ , with him and Steve, and I wanted to make them _better._ ”

 

“That doesn’t sound so bad, Chin.”

 

“Sometimes I think my feelings, and my intentions, and my admiration for Jack became jumbled. Confused. I worked my way into Steve’s life because I was curious. And…that curiosity turned into interest, and that interest turned into infatuation.”

 

“It’s hardly a punishable offense,” Kono excuses him easily. She doesn’t really get it. “I don’t see why you’re beating yourself up over it all these years later.”

 

“Because he was 18 years old!” Chin exclaims. “He was my boss’ kid. He’d lost his mom and his dad couldn’t deal with it. All Steve wanted was some piece of his father’s life and I took advantage of that.”

 

“You. Took advantage of _Steve_.” Kono shakes her head like the notion is an impossibility. She only sees Steve as he is now, her tough, sexy boss who takes no prisoners and shows no fear. She doesn’t know what it’s like to see him vulnerable. She idolizes him as more than a man, the way that only rookies can.

 

“I was five years his senior. A police officer. No matter what I felt, it was my responsibility not to act on it.”

 

“But you did.”

 

“And I did.” Saying it out loud is somewhat of a relief. He’d never admitted the sin to anyone; he’s been carrying it around all these years, the memory of those few months that had been both perfect and awful at the same time. “We would hang out…like buddies. Like friends. Friends who were sometimes…” He coughs uncomfortably. “More than friends.”

 

Chin sucks in a deep breath and waits for Kono to press for details. She thankfully remains silent.

 

“It kept on going like that until he left for summer at the Naval Academy. He went off to his life, and I went back to mine. We never talked about it, or _decided_ to go our own ways. It just happened. And that’s the way it should have been.”

 

“Did Jack know?” Kono asks quietly, edging closer to him. Chin faces her again, meeting her questioning gaze.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but sometimes I wonder. I wonder why, when he had this entire investigation into the police department and his wife’s death going on, he never breathed a word to me about it.”

 

“He didn’t trust anyone with that, Chin.”

 

“I’d like to think he could’ve trusted me. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he knew I’d been with Steve behind his back. Or maybe he started to believe what they were saying about me down at the precinct. All I know for sure is that when he retired and set to work full time on this thing, he didn’t want me to know about it.”

 

“He stuck with you even when IA was breathing down your neck, Chin. The thing with the investigation, it might not have been personal.”

 

“But it may have been.”

 

Kono lets him hang on to his doubt. There’s no way for her to prove the truth one way or another. She tucks her legs underneath her and sits Indian-style on the wall, letting the ocean breeze blow her long hair out of her face.

 

She’s quiet for a moment and Chin has just enough time to wonder what she’s thinking – if she’s judging him, if her image of him has finally been tarnished after all this time – when she purses her lips and heaves another sigh.

 

“I remember Steve being at your apartment. I mean, I didn’t know it was Steve at the time, obviously, but it was, wasn’t it? That time I almost walked in on you?”

 

Chin rubs his sweaty palm over the knee of his jeans.

 

“If I remember it, then you have to. You know what I’m talking about.”

 

“I do,” he admits reluctantly.

 

“And you weren’t some rookie then, Chin. That was later, _a lot_ later. So this thing with Steve didn’t just _end_ , did it? It kept going.”

 

“No, it didn’t keep going.” Chin lets his fingers trace the edges of the rough stone underneath where they sit. The surface is uneven and jagged. He shifts position, the rock digging into his thighs. He draws his legs in close and folds his arms over his knees. “He was gone for a long time…I hadn’t seen him in…five years? Then his grandmother died and he was given leave to come home. I saw him there, at the funeral. I gave him my condolences but apart from that we didn’t even speak.”

 

Chin pauses, his mind going back to that night.

 

“But later he showed up at my place. That was…” Chin’s not sure he wants to be this honest, but since he’s already come this far he may as well leave it all out there on the table. “That was the first, last, and only time Steve and I ever slept together. He left the next day.”

 

“That was it?”

 

“Didn’t see him again until I ran into him at the Missouri five months ago.”

 

“And you’ve never talked about it? Not once?” Kono’s eyes are wide and she nearly laughs at the ludicrousness of it all.

 

“Why would we? There’s no need.”

 

“No need? You and Steve _sleep together_ and you don’t see a _need_ to _talk about it?_ ”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, _what?_ ”

 

Kono and Chin both twist around at the sound of Danny’s stunned voice. He’s standing with his hand still on the door, having stepped outside just in time to hear Kono’s last sentence.

 

Kono’s mouth opens and closes a few times like a floundering fish but she’s unable to find her voice. Chin closes his eyes and makes a silent wish that there’s some way around this one.

 

But Steve comes out after Danny only a second later, clapping a hand on Danny’s shoulder and nodding his head toward his truck.

 

“C’mon, I’ll give your drunk ass a ride home.” Chin feels a brief moment of pity for Steve and his obliviousness; he has no idea what he just walked into.

 

“Hold up hold up hold up.” Danny raises both his hands and Steve stops, that quizzical impatient look on his face that he gets when he point blank does _not_ understand what the hell Danny is on about. “You…and Chin?”

 

“Me and Chin what.” Steve asks, hands out and begging clarification. Danny sputters for a moment, nothing but garbled nonsense managing to make its way from his mouth. Steve looks past Danny to where he and Kono sit, waiting for an explanation of any kind.

 

“You and Chin _slept together_? What the ever-living fuck, Steve? When did _this_ happen?” It all spews out of Danny’s mouth like the explosion of a volcano.

 

“What is he talking about?” One hand on his hip and one gesturing to Danny, Steve brow furrows like he can’t imagine how Danny ever latched on to this obscure piece of information.

 

“He’s a little drunk, I think he misheard-“ Kono attempts heroically. Chin shakes his head at her, telling her not even to try. It’s a lost cause.

 

“I’m not so drunk that I’ve lost my understanding of the English language, Kono, so unless there’s some strange definition of ‘slept together’ that I don’t know about…” He’s waving his hands about now, letting them fly around everywhere as he struggles to get his point across.

 

“It’s not what you think,” Chin starts and even from where he sits, he can see every muscle in Steve’s body tense. Steve rests both hands on his hips and sets his jaw, locking his gaze on Danny.

 

“It’s not what I _think_?” Danny snaps.

 

“It’s really none of your business, Danny.” Steve says and Chin cringes. If there is a correct way to handle this situation, telling Danny _that_ is the exact opposite.

 

“It’s none of my…It’s none of my business. It’s none of my _business_? Is that right? It’s none of my business! Okay. Well, good to know. I’ll file that away for future use. Go fuck yourself, McGarrett.”

 

Danny storms off toward the parking lot, muttering under his breath and feet pounding gravel like he’s trying to smash the tiny pieces of rock into the dirt.

 

“Uh, we need to stop him. He can’t drive like that.” Kono speaks up when Danny’s halfway to his car and Steve huffs, digging something out of his pocket.

 

“I have his keys.” He looks at Chin, confident that Danny won’t get far. “What happened out here? Danny was out of my sight for less than a minute.”

 

“It’s a long story.” Chin mumbles.

 

“I’ll bet.” Steve rubs his temple and glances over to where Danny is at his car, tugging at the door handle and then kicking his front tire in frustration when he realizes he’s locked out. “Fuck.”

 

“It’s been a long time coming,” Kono says, and Chin figures she means him and Steve, but it could just as easily apply to Danny and Steve. “You guys need to talk about this. It’s not going away just because-“

 

“Kono.” Steve barks out her name the same time he does. She bites her tongue but not happily.

 

“I gotta go deal with this.” Steve gestures toward Danny and then turns and points to Chin. “You and I…we’re gonna sit down later and you’re going to tell me how the hell this even happened.”

 

Chin swallows the surge of bitter resentment that swells in his throat. He grits his teeth and glares at Steve.

 

“Fine.” He spits out. Steve’s face changes then: anger fading and a flash of vulnerability slackening his expression. He’s panicked, maybe betrayed. Chin’s broken their unspoken agreement to never bring it up and now they have to face what they’ve buried for ten years.

 

Steve hesitates before going after Danny. His eyes, those beautiful eyes that got Chin into this trouble in the first place, meet Chin’s with a silent question.

 

“Just…go talk to him. This can wait.” Chin tells him, trying not to be hurt by how quickly Steve takes him at his word, or by the relief he sees in that first step toward Danny.

 

*******

 

 

 **June, 1999**

 

It’s late, 3am, which is why the fanning of headlights across his living room wall as a car pulls into the drive wakes Chin from the half-asleep state of staring absently at a late night infomercial.

 

The engine cuts off and a door slams. Footsteps on the walk, a sharp rap on the door. There’s just one knock, like whoever it is knows he’s awake and can patiently wait for him to come to the door.

 

Chin turns off the television but he doesn’t bother to switch on a lamp. The front porch light is on and is casting enough faint glow through the curtains that he can see where he’s going pretty clearly. The empty beer bottles at his feet clink together as he stands up.

 

He already knows, deep in his gut, who it’s going to be. In truth, he’s been hoping for this all along.

 

He’d seen him earlier today, standing stoic with jaw clenched beside his grandmother’s grave, mourning the woman who cared for him for two years while his father focused on his own grief. Two inches taller, twenty pounds heavier with pure muscle, Steve McGarrett had looked like a stranger in his uniform. He’d looked like a man; a man Chin didn’t recognize except in the way he’d kept blinking those long eyelashes of his, refusing to cry.

 

They shook hands like they’d never met – never touched, never kissed, never _anything_ – and Chin left. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath since then. He hadn’t even bothered to go through the motions of his usual arrival home; the day was already too different for routine. He’d merely pulled a six-pack from the fridge, sat down on the couch, drank his way through it, and he hadn’t moved since. Until now.

 

He opens the door. Steve is still in his full service dress blues, rigid and tense and on the verge of breaking like so much glass.

 

Chin reaches forward and pushes open the screen door.

 

He backs up to let Steve in, but barely. Steve’s warm and he smells the same, somehow, even after all these years and everything that’s changed. Chin thought he’d smell of cherry blossoms and black-eyed susans; but the scent of ilima and plumeria and ocean air clings to his skin. They’re standing close when Chin shoves the door closed behind them. The latch catching is loud in the quiet of the room, like the cocking of a rifle before a shot.

 

Steve puts his hands on Chin’s shoulders and turns him easily. Backs him against the unforgiving wood of the door.

 

They stare at one another for a long moment and Chin wonders what Steve is waiting for.

 

Then Steve’s lips are on his and it’s different than he remembers. There’s no playful give and take – only dominance. Steve holds him in place with the weight of his body, Steve’s hands on either side of his face, and Steve’s tongue invading his mouth like he’s trying to say five years worth of _something_ with one kiss.

 

Chin tries to push back to see if Steve will let him. He does, quite easily, and Chin is satisfied. He knocks the white service cap from Steve’s head and it lands on the floor with a thud. It gets kicked somewhere as his hands run over Steve’s close cropped hair. Chin finds it surprisingly soft under his fingertips. But it’s barely there, not even the short strands he remembers running his fingers through five years before, holding and tugging and pulling as Steve eagerly sucked him to completion in this very same room.

 

It all comes back to Chin in a sudden rush – mornings spent surfing, afternoons spent tossing around the football on the beach, evenings watching the sun go down over the flicker of a bonfire, nights when Steve would kiss him good-night and end up staying another hour. After Steve left for school, Chin had kept finding things he’d left behind – flip-flops, t-shirts, video games, surf wax – and he’d hung onto them for months before finally throwing them out.

 

It’d been a brief, bright period where Steve was the sunniest thing in his life. Everything then had been about exploration, and he’d mapped out Steve’s body like he’d learned the back roads of Hawaii – by instinct, and by repetition. He’d discovered where Steve was soft and where he was sharp, followed each line and each dip and each shadowed valley. He came to know what made Steve smile playfully, what made his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure, what made his face turn dark with lust.

 

Tonight they’re going to go into unexplored territory, farther than they’ve gone before. They’d never conquered each other completely and Chin knows that by tomorrow, that will no longer be true. He could fight it, but instead he gives into it and lets Steve take him over.

 

He doesn’t need to think, he just _moves._ It’s not the same – Steve’s hard and forceful and angrily _desperate_ – but it’s close enough.

 

Steve’s the same age now as Chin was when this all began, and somehow it seems strangely fitting that it’s come back around to this.

 

Steve is unbuttoning his shirt, bottom to top, hands stopping at his shirt collar and holding firm. Their kiss only skips a beat when Steve breaks to strip the fabric from Chin’s shoulders and down his arms. He tosses it as soon as Chin pulls free and it knocks the lampshade askew before finishing its journey to the floor.

 

They fumble their way to the bedroom and once there, Chin lets Steve do whatever he wants. It’s never been his call where Steve’s concerned; if it had been, this never would’ve started. He’d have been able to walk away before nothing became a kiss, before a kiss became more.

 

At eighteen, Steve had _seemed_ confident, in the way the star quarterback and bright shining star of the high school should be, but he’d let the confidence slip sometimes. He’d given voice to his fears, told things to Chin that even now Chin suspects he’s never told anyone else. But he’d never felt unsure; there’d never been any doubt or worry in between them, as if Steve knew Chin was a safe harbor for him to drop anchor.

 

Now, Steve has a confidence that probably comes from having perfection drilled into his bones, from living a life where failure is not an option. But his confidence is cold. It’s inhuman. It feels as much a mask as Steve’s winning high school smile did.

 

Yet in his kiss there’s something dangerous and sincere. Steve is still sharing his fear, but this time it’s with his body and not his words. Chin welcomes it, not caring how Steve speaks because it means he’s not silent.

 

Steve’s a vast expanse of firm muscle, ripped and hard all over, and he feels so good against him as they move together. Chin lets his hands discover the tight curve of Steve’s ass, the taut line of his abs, the flex of his biceps. The swirls of black and green he finds inked where Steve’s skin used to be bare are surprising, and he traces the tattoos with his tongue like that will somehow give him the answer to why they’re there.

 

Steve groans against him as he does so, cock riding his hip. Their naked bodies fit together almost as well as he always thought they would. It’s near enough to perfect that it throws each remaining flaw into stark relief; they’re a puzzle with one piece missing, forever lost, never complete. Chin shoves the thought aside and concentrates on the way his hands feel against the cut lines of Steve’s hips. He could get lost in Steve’s intense beauty. It’s powerful enough to make him forget everything else he’s feeling.

 

When Steve turns him over and finally pushes into him from behind, it may be a bit too rough, too hard, but it doesn’t matter. The pain is real, this is actually happening, and the accidental bruises Steve is leaving on his hips will remind him of that long after every other sensation has faded.

 

It’s over as suddenly as it began, Steve coming with a cry that seems ripped right out of his chest. Chin follows him over, unable to stop himself as he feels Steve release deep and warm inside of him. He whispers Steve’s name and a few things in Bird that he hopes Steve has forgotten the meaning of during his time away.

 

Steve’s wet and sticky hands, dripping with Chin’s own release, cling to him, not letting him go. He pants hotly against Chin’s neck and his heartbeat thuds recklessly hard against Chin’s back. Chin breathes in the scent of sweat and come and _Steve_ and can only try and pull the man closer.

 

They must fall asleep in a tangled heap because that’s precisely how he wakes up, with Steve encircling him and Kono’s voice loud and cheery from somewhere inside the house.

 

He doesn’t know how he manages to climb out of bed, find a pair of underwear and get to the door without waking Steve, but he’s still snoring softly, face buried in the pillow, when Chin returns.

 

He leans against the closed bedroom door and looks at Steve’s naked form, the long line of him stretching across white sheets. He’s gorgeous and perfect and Chin wants to crawl back into bed and make love in the way they hadn’t last night. He wants to look into Steve’s eyes as he makes him come.

 

Like he can tell he’s being watched even through the veil of sleep, Steve stirs. He shifts, long lashes fluttering as his eyes slowly open.

 

“Hey,” Chin says softly. He moves back to the bed and sits down, reaching out to touch Steve’s side. Steve lets Chin’s hand linger on his stomach for a long enough moment that Chin starts to relax, but then Steve pulls away.

 

He rolls over to the opposite side of the bed and sits up, reaching for his boxer briefs and pulling them on.

 

“I need to go.” Steve’s voice is thick with sleep. It’s the first thing he’s said since arriving last night and Chin wishes he’d remained silent. Chin nods instead of replying, trying to hide his disappointment by focusing on a random point in the pattern of his rumpled bedspread.

 

Steve stands up, sending the mattress shifting under Chin’s weight.

 

When Chin has the nerve to look at him, Steve already has his pants on. Chin watches silently as he zips up and does his belt with thoughtless efficiency.

 

“My dad’s expecting me.”

 

“Yeah.” Chin says and he hears how broken it sounds. He clears his throat. “I understand.”

 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back in Hawaii again.” It sounds kind of like an apology, kind of like an excuse. Chin forces a weak smile.

 

“I understand, Steve. It’s okay.”

 

Steve looks at him, his expression unreadable, and then he licks his lips and nods.

 

“Yeah. Okay.” He throws on his undershirt and gathers the rest of his clothes in his hands, then lets himself out of Chin’s bedroom. Chin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to follow, but he does.

 

Steve’s sitting on the arm of the couch and pulling his shoes on. Chin stoops to pick up his white hat from where it lays by the door.

 

“Don’t forget this.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“So. I’ll see you.” He’s letting himself out. Chin is meeting him at the door. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. It’s not a kiss goodbye; he’s not that delusional. He just wants anything besides this detached and awkward farewell.

 

“Sure. See you.”

 

When the door closes, Chin turns away and deliberately avoids watching Steve go. So it’s all the more surprising when there’s a knock on the door only a minute later.

 

He opens it and tries to keep hope from choking up in his throat.

 

“The car won’t start.” Steve says quickly, pointing to his father’s Marquis that sits in the driveway, and Chin swallows, nods. “It’s probably the carburetor, it does that.”

 

“I’ll call city impound and get a tow back to your place. I know a guy.”

 

Steve smiles faintly, a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

 

“You always know a guy.”

 

“Suppose I do. You need a ride home?”

 

“Naw, I’ll just…it’s a good morning to walk I think.”

 

“Okay,” Chin imagines Steve walking home half-clothed in his rumpled dress blues, stinking of sex, but he figures Honolulu has seen stranger things where military men are concerned.

 

“Okay.” Steve nods once in return and steps down one stair at a time until he reaches the walk, still looking at Chin as he does so. “Bye, Chin.”

 

“Bye, Steve.” Chin replies. Out here, faced with Steve’s impending retreat, it’s impossible not to watch him leave. He looks until Steve’s long gone, and then stares at his empty yard for a while longer.

 

*******

 **Present**

 

Steve pauses a few feet away from the Camaro. From Danny.

 

“Come on. Let me take you home.” Steve holds up the keys like a peace offering. Danny turns to face him, rubbing his hands down his stubbled cheeks and over his mouth. His hair’s a mess, and that idiotic tie is so loose Steve can count three buttons down on his striped shirt before landing on the knot.

 

Danny stares at him, eyes shining brightly even in this dangerously unlit parking lot, and Steve doesn’t know what the hell the man wants him to say.

 

“What.” Steve snaps, impatient under the weight of Danny’s look and frazzled by how inept he feels. Danny snorts in sarcastic laughter.

 

“’What.’ he says. Can you believe this guy?” Danny asks the empty space around them like he expects an answer from an imaginary audience.

 

“Yeah, what. What? What is it?” Danny clearly has a problem with his and Chin’s past, but he’s not going to stand here and play guessing games about it. He never wanted to talk about it in the first place, much less have some lengthy discussion. “Just say it, whatever it is.”

 

“Forget this. I’m getting a cab.” Danny starts stalking back toward the bar and Steve groans in irritation, throwing his hands up.

 

“Oh for christ’s sake, Danny, get in the damn car.” Steve storms to the passenger’s side and unlocks the door. “You’re mad at me, fine. Whatever. It’ll be like any other day of the week, you can sit shotgun and rant and rave at me until you’re blue in the face.”

 

Danny whirls around and advances toward him, closing the space he’d opened up not moments before. Steve stands his ground, lets Danny get near enough that Steve can feel the anger radiating off of him like body heat.

 

“No, Steve, it will _not_ be like any other day of the week, because today is the day that I got the image of you and Chin _screwing_ seared into my brain. Please tell me, how is that like any other day? _Please._ I’d really like to know.”

 

“Get in the car, Danny.”

 

“No.”

 

“Just get in the car!”

 

“Are you hearing impaired, McGarrett? I said _no_.”

 

Steve clenches his fist, clamping down on the urge to grab Danny by the scruff of his collar and toss him into the front seat.

 

“Danny. Do you want to talk about this? Because I’m not talking about this here. In a parking lot. At one in the morning. You want to talk about this, you get in the car, and I will drive you home, and _then_ we will talk about this.” He doesn’t feel he’s being unreasonable but Danny looks at him like he’s absolutely insane.

 

“You think I want to talk about this?” Danny’s voice notches higher and higher in disbelief, his hands moving about rapidly enough that Steve wonders he doesn’t strain a muscle. “You think I want to discuss the details of you and Chin hooking up. That’s what you think.”

 

“I think you obviously have some questions.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest and squares his shoulders and feet, leveling a direct and unflinching gaze at Danny.

 

“Questions.”

 

“You seem upset.”

 

“I am not upset.”

 

“Then get in the car.”

 

“I don’t _want_ to get in the car.”

 

“Danny…!” Steve drops his stance and turns to the Camaro. He leans into the space left by the open door and puts his elbows on the roof. He can see the familiar beach straight out ahead, smell the scent of seawater that’s always felt like home, but he feels like he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

 

He takes a moment to gain some sense of composure, running a hand over the back of his head. Fuck Danny, really. Fuck anyone who makes him feel like this. He never wanted to be this twisted up in someone, but Danny’s turned him into a tangled mess.

 

When Steve turns back around, Danny is still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and this challenging look on his face, daring Steve to push him farther and see how that goes.

 

Steve figures that if Danny really didn’t want to know, he would’ve left to get that cab. But he’s here. Staring at him like maybe he _wants_ Steve to force him into the Camaro and hash out whatever it is that’s got him so damn riled.

 

“It was ten years ago, Danno.” Steve gives up one detail. If he knows Danny at all, that should be enough to draw Danny in. He’ll want to know more, and Steve will have the upper hand.

 

Danny bites his bottom lip like he’s forcing words to stay inside his mouth. Steve has no clue what he’s waiting for, or what about that needs clarification.

 

“It’s not like it was yesterday, is what I’m saying.”

 

“And…?”

 

“And…” Steve steps aside and gestures into the car. Danny rolls his eyes.

 

“Fine.” He knocks past Steve and gets in like it’s the biggest fucking sacrifice he’s made in his life.

 

Steve shuts the door after Danny and then circles around to the driver’s side, keys digging into the flesh of his palm. He’s amped up now, tension tugging his muscles and a headache throbbing insistently at his temples.

 

He wants to press the gas pedal to the floor and gun it the hell out of there, so instead he calmly and carefully pulls out, his hands at ten and two and his heart pounding in his chest. He’s not letting this situation get the better of him – he’s _not_.

 

He maintains a stony silence, jaw set in a firm line, as they head to Danny’s place. If Danny wants to know something, he can ask it now. He’ll answer straight, but he’s not about to blindly offer information unsolicited. That’d be like aiming in the dark, merely hoping to hit the right thing. It’s always safer to say nothing until you know where you stand.

 

But Danny remains quiet when Steve pulls up in front of his apartment complex, so quiet that it’s frankly unsettling. Steve turns off the car and leaves the key in the ignition.

 

They sit in the dark for a long while, not even the lights from the dash on to break the shadows. Steve lets it be. He can take it; he’s sure Danny can’t.

 

“I knew you two had a history.” Danny breaks in under three minutes. His words are shaky and Steve thinks he recognizes something in them. Disappointment, maybe. “But I thought it was the stuff with your dad. I _see_ what that bought him with you, I mean, I saw it from the start. You trust him, man. Unquestioningly.”

 

“I trust you too, Danny.”

 

“Not in the same way.”

 

“There aren’t different ways to trust people. I trust Chin with my life, I trust you with my life. It’s the exact same thing.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Explain that to me, how it’s not.”

 

“Chin…and you…” Danny searches for the right thing to say, fingers grasping like he’s going to pull an idea from the air. “He’s not as crazy as you, right, but he _gets_ your crazy. I think he even enjoys your crazy. It’s like…he’s been out there with you on the ledge from the beginning, and I’ve been the idiot hollering for you to get down.”

 

“Yeah, well. I need you hollering at me, Danno. Most days you’re the only thing between me and jumping.” He wants Danny to know how much he means that, how much Danny has made him feel human again after years of being both something more and something less.

 

But Danny doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s lost in his own thoughts, digging deep to get at something that’s out of his reach.

 

“It’s this damn island.” Danny continues. He sounds pained, like everything he says is being pulled out of his throat against his will. It’s strange to hear on a man who usually gives up words as easy as breathing. “You all speak your own language and me, I’m never going to know it. I’m never going to be a part of it.”

 

“Thought you didn’t want to,” Steve replies softly.

 

“Maybe there are certain things I _do_ want to be a part of, okay? Maybe not surfing, or pineapple and ham on pizza, but maybe this. Maybe this, right here.” Steve’s not sure what he means and Danny’s not giving him much to go on. He’s staring out the front windshield, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

 

“Danny…” Steve shifts in his seat, turning almost completely to face his partner.

 

Danny glances at him.

 

“But you and Chin…I can _not_ compete with that, man.”

 

“Who says you have to?” Steve replies, dumbfounded. “Look. You want our long and sordid history? Cause there’s really not much to it. My senior year of high school, we messed around a little. It was barely anything. And then a few years later, I was on leave…” Steve doesn’t want to say how he’d shown up uninvited on Chin’s doorstep, feeling confused and so completely alone. How he’d tumbled into bed for the sake of feeling something, or how he’d taken off the next morning like a damn coward. “It was one night. And it never happened again. That’s it, Danny.”

 

He shouldn’t feel the need to apologize. If he does, he should be apologizing to Chin. Not Danny. But the feeling won’t go away, the feeling that he owes Danny more than this.

 

Danny’s not looking at him again, and Steve is beginning to hate it. Everything about Danny is up front and in your face and now he’s avoiding Steve’s gaze completely.

 

“Is it because I’ve been with a guy? Is that the problem?” Steve tries, at a loss and grasping for any possibility.

 

“No, that’s not the problem!” Danny says defensively, offended.

 

“Because it doesn’t change anything about me and frankly if you think it does-“

 

“I know that. That’s _not_ the issue.”

 

“Then what is the issue? That it was Chin?” Danny doesn’t answer and Steve can only wait a few moments before his patience demands a response. “Danny.”

 

“Yeah. Maybe that’s it.” Danny’s words are loud in the small cab of the car and he gives them up unwillingly. He runs a hand exasperatedly through his hair and then throws both up in surrender. “Maybe it is that it’s Chin.”

 

“Okay.” Steve nods, feeling like they’re finally getting somewhere.

 

“Because it’d be a lot easier if it wasn’t Chin. You have to get that, right? You _have_ to understand that it’d be easier if I didn’t have to go into work on Monday and look him in the eye and _know_ that he fucked you.”

 

“Other way around.”

 

“Shut up, I do not want to know that!” Danny closes his eyes tightly and Steve clamps his mouth shut, jaw snapping closed. “I _do not_. Want to know.”

 

“If you don’t want to know, then why are we having this conversation?”

 

Danny doesn’t have an answer for that, at least not at the moment. Steve starts to speak, wanting to put forth his own possible explanation, when Danny holds up a finger, silencing him and telling him to wait a damn second.

 

“We are having this conversation because…” He rubs his temple. “We’re having this conversation because yeah, okay, I don’t like the idea of you and Chin together. Frankly, I don’t like the idea of you and _anyone_ together. It makes me want to wash my brain out with bleach and then throw up yesterday’s lunch.”

 

“You find the idea that repulsive. I am _that_ repulsive to you.” Steve narrows his eyes at Danny, not bothering to disguise he’s hurt.

 

“Jesus Christ you’re dense. The problem, you gigantic _moron_ , is that you are the opposite of repulsive. In fact, you’re not repulsive at all, and if you really need me to say it, I will say it. Clearly, slowly, with small words so you can understand. Here. _Listen_ to me saying it: I do not want to think about you with another guy because I _do not want_ you to be with other guys. Or other women, for that matter! If you’re going to be with anyone, it should be me. End of story. Period. That’s all, folks.”

 

Steve saw that coming and then again not at all. It’s like he already knew it, knew it better than anything, and yet is caught off guard by Danny suddenly, finally, having the balls to say it out loud.

 

They’re both deathly quiet for a long, tense minute and Danny fidgets under the weight of Steve’s intense gaze.

 

“Now would be a good time to say something, McGarrett.”

 

Steve licks his lips and swallows; his mouth is dry and throat hoarse, and his mind is racing as he tries to formulate the right response.

 

“You’re really just gonna leave me hanging here with that, huh.” Danny says resentfully, disappointed.

 

Steve sighs, wishing that Danny would give him a second to _think_. Danny’s the one always saying he doesn’t think things through before he acts, and now here they are at this major, _major_ crossroads and Danny’s looking at him like he’s automatically supposed to know which way to go next. Nevermind that it’s uncharted territory for them both.

 

“Danno…”

 

“No. Do not do that. Do not _Danno_ me right now with the eyes and the voice and that fucking face and _no_.” Danny pops open the car door and clambers out, his seat belt slowing him down ungracefully as his arm tangles with it. He slams the door so hard the whole car vibrates.

 

Steve is quick to follow, getting out and going after him as Danny hastily makes for his apartment door.

 

“Danny!” He catches up fast, his long legs gaining ground that Danny can’t outpace. Steve catches him by the bicep and pulls him back. “Dan, just…stop.”

 

“I’m drunk and we should not be having this conversation. Thank you for the ride, good night.” Danny violently twists out of Steve’s grasp and reaches for his door.

 

Steve grabs him again and shoves him against it with a bit too much force. The wood rattles and Danny grunts sharply.

 

He tries to think of the right thing to say, but he’s never been one for words. There’s nothing that can help here and he’s all talked out.

 

So Steve does the only thing he can do, the only thing he _wants_ to do, and slants his mouth across Danny’s. It’s a snap decision based on instinct and it immediately feels right. The kiss explodes hot and open and over-the-top good, like their lips have been dying to meet since the moment he and Danny first spoke. Like every word, every insult, every joke, had been nothing but an effort on behalf of their bodies to draw each other in.

 

He crowds Danny, closes in, and Danny lets him do it, lets Steve press against him tightly and take control of everything for a few blissful moments.

 

Steve tangles his hands in Danny’s hair and angles his head, surges deeper. He wants something more; he wants what’s missing, whatever Danny’s holding back.

 

But then Danny’s fingers dig into his shoulders and Danny’s fighting him for dominance, and that’s it right there. That’s what he needed. Danny’s warm and wired and tight under his hands and Danny’s lips and tongue move just like he talks, sharp and passionate like every single thing out of his mouth is important and must be heard.

 

He’s hard and Danny’s hard and it’d be so easy to push him through the door and fall onto that ludicrous excuse for a bed, but even he knows that would be a huge mistake. Steve breathes in the taste of liquor on Danny’s tongue and regretfully pulls away, drawing his teeth along Danny’s plush bottom lip as he does.

 

Danny’s eyes slowly flicker open and he looks at Steve questioningly.

 

“Like you said…you’re drunk. And there are rules about these kinds of things.”

 

Danny exhales and laughs at the same time.

 

“Now you wanna follow rules?”

 

Danny’s doing this thing where he’s hooking his fingers through Steve’s belt loops and tugging at his waist, looking up at him with those hooded, lust-blown eyes, and Steve doesn’t think Danny even knows he’s doing it. But he likes it too much and he wishes Danny would stop.

 

“Good night, Danno.”

 

He leans forward like he’s going to kiss Danny again but pulls back before their lips do anything more than faintly brush. He steps away from Danny’s heat, resisting the temptation to move closer again. He might have given in, because hell with caution, but he has to admit he enjoys the stunned stupid look on Danny’s face when Danny realizes he’s leaving.

 

Danny stares after him, slack-jawed and looking a mess, as Steve walks back toward the Camaro, his step confident and sure.

 

Steve’s not really either of those things, but that’s not the point.

 

“Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” Danny shouts after him angrily and Steve smirks to himself.

 

“Get some sleep, Danny.” Steve calls back and gives him a mock salute good-bye. If Danny says anything else, Steve pretends not to hear it.

 

*******

 

 

 **June, 1999**

 

“Steve!”

 

Steve stands up sharply, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the open hood. He snaps toward the sound of his father’s voice and reaches over to turn down the radio.

 

“I’ve been standing here trying to get your attention-“

 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. He wipes his oil-stained hands on a used rag and tosses it onto the workbench.

 

“What are you listening to?”

 

“Don’t know. It’s background noise.” Steve shrugs and leans against the front grill of the Mercury. “Car’s busted.”

 

“I see that.”

 

“I’ll get it running before I leave.” He promises and Jack nods slowly like he doesn’t quite believe it. Steve takes it as a challenge. “I will, don’t worry.”

 

“I barely drive that old thing. If you were back here on a permanent basis, I’d just let you have it.” Jack says, eyeing the black sedan and then Steve. Steve can read between the lines; his father’s always been a master at putting the important things there.

 

“But I’m not coming back here, Dad. I’m back in Coronado in less than twenty-four for deployment. I belong to the SEALs now.”

 

“Yep, I know that.”

 

He wishes his father would protest, maybe say _But I need you here!_ but that’s a pipe dream he’d put to bed years ago.

 

“Where’re they sending you?”

 

“That’s classified, Dad,” Steve sighs. “You know that too.”

 

Jack folds his arms across his chest and walks the length of the garage, stopping at the trunk of the Marquis and putting his hand on the cool metal.

 

“Didn’t hear you come in last night.”

 

Steve sniffs and itches his nose, then coughs.

 

“That’s cause I didn’t,” Steve states and picks up a socket wrench. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to use it for, but he needs something to do with his hands. He adjusts the waistline of his cargo pants and bends back down under the hood. “I had some things to take care of.”

 

“Hmm-hmm.” His father nods again, infuriatingly quiet. Steve focuses on the engine, thankful for all the metal that currently separates him from his dad. He hasn’t lied to his dad’s face since he was little, but admitting he spent the night after his grandmother’s funeral buried balls deep in one of his father’s officers is not an option.

 

Steve holds his breath, keeps pretending like he’s working undisturbed and unbothered, and hopes the moment passes. It does, with the kind of cool McGarrett efficiency he really should have expected. The matter most likely isn’t dropped or forgotten – merely set aside while another plan of attack is silently formed.

 

Jack shifts his stance and adjusts the belt of his jeans.

 

“So, did you hear from your sister?”

 

“No. But you know how she is,” Steve grunts. Mary’s Mary, and she’s never forgiven her father or her grandmother for shipping her off. Mary’s holding it against him too, like his going to college and leaving her alone to her fate was the ultimate betrayal.

 

“Suppose I do.” His father sounds sad – as sad as he might ever let on anyway – so Steve sighs and steps back from the car. He leans to the side to catch Jack’s line of sight.

 

“Grams was a good woman, Dad. Those two years after Mom were rough on all of us, and she did the best she could. _You_ did the best you could. Mare going to L.A., it was the right thing at the time. One day she’ll understand that.”

 

“I won’t ask her to.” That right there is the closest thing Steve’s ever heard to an apology for sending them to live with their grandmother seven years ago, or letting Mary be pawned off on mainland relatives like a bad penny shortly after, and he’s torn between saying _about time_ and letting it go. Punishing his father for the past will get them both nowhere.

 

Mary always says he’s repressing it all, bottling it up, and one day she expects he’ll blow and spew forth overdue vitriol regarding the botched and abrupt ending of their childhood, but Steve honestly feels what he considers only reasonable amount of resentment. Mostly, he feels detached about the whole thing, logic ruling all. His father does a hard job, and he does a hard job well. He’s a good man – good soldier, good cop – and if he couldn’t handle raising him and Mary on his own, it really was best for all involved that things played out the way they did.

 

Last time he tried to explain that to Mary, she’d snorted loudly over the phone and said _Yeah, that’s why you haven’t been home **once**_ _in over five years. Totally well-adjusted._

 

He hates to think she might have a point. Maybe not about their father, but about other things. Other things that made him knock on Chin’s door last night, fingers clenched tightly to keep Chin from seeing how he trembled. Other things that made him use and abuse a truly decent man so he could forget his problems for a while. Other things that made him feel weak and scared.

 

Steve’s supposed to be living the tenets of valor and courage but he’d never felt less honorable or brave than last night when he was with Chin – _inside_ Chin – and couldn’t even manage to _talk._

 

His father shifts again with a small cough. As he has for years, Steve finds himself wondering how his father never knew, never heard about the brief time he and Chin were together. How they’d talked then, and laughed and teased and touched for five months, always saying they should stop right before falling into another kiss. They had been easy together, as laid-back and fun as Hawaii itself.

 

When he left the island, Steve left Chin too, and he really hadn’t looked back. Only coming home made him realize that what he thought was an excellent strategic maneuver had actually been a hasty retreat with unforeseen fallout.

 

Jack probably does know where he went last night, just like he probably knows all about back then. For a split second Steve considers blowing it all wide open and asking about Chin, how he’s been doing, but instead what comes out is:

 

“How’s work, Dad?”

 

“It’s fine.” Jack circles around the length of the car and runs a hand along his workbench, coming to a stop almost by Steve’s side. He seems to be considering something, a slight twitch in his jaw giving him away. “Honestly, Steve, I’m thinking about hanging it up.”

 

“What?” He can’t conceal his surprise. His dad’s not even sixty and for a man whose life is his job, Steve can’t imagine what else there is for him. “Why?”

 

Jack taps a finger on the workbench and then lifts his hand, sets it on the slightly tarnished red toolbox close by. His jaw twitches once more and his eyes flicker toward Steve’s then just as quickly away again. He exhales a shaky breath and then gives the least truthful shrug Steve’s ever seen.

 

“Well, I probably won’t…just having some thoughts is all.” He waves it off like he regrets even bringing it up. “Body ain’t what it used to be, and the department’s all about computers now. I’m getting to be a bit of a relic around there.”

 

“Hell, you trained half of those guys, Dad. What does your partner think?”

 

“Who, Chin? He doesn’t want me to leave, but he said he understands.”

 

And that’s a sucker punch in the gut.

 

“Chin’s…your partner?”

 

“You knew that, Steve. You met him at the funeral yesterday.”

 

“I…I knew he was a cop, but I didn’t know he’d made detective or that he was your partner.” Steve tries to recover but the way his father’s looking at him, entirely non-plussed by his reaction, tells Steve the jig is up. It doesn’t shake him the way he thought it would; it feels like an inevitable outcome finally realized.

 

He puts his hands on his hips and shrugs off handedly, acting like he’s going to go back to tuning the engine. “Well, I guess that’s good.”

 

“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Young, but he knows what he’s doing. I can trust him.” Jack pats the toolbox one more time and then crosses to the garage door. The conversation is obviously drawing to a close and Steve feels like maybe he failed some test here but he doesn’t know what it was. “Trust in your partner can be everything, whether you’re under fire or just shooting the shit. You remember that when you’re out there – those SEALs are your brothers, your comrades – but think carefully about which ones are gonna be your friends.”

 

“Thank you for the advice.” Steve replies solemnly. He’s unsure where the sudden life lesson sprang from but it’s clear he needs to acknowledge his father’s seriousness.

 

Jack holds his stare until Steve finally has no choice but to blink.

 

“Well, I…guess I’ll leave you to it.” Jack gestures to the Marquis and then turns to leave. Steve stops him.

 

“Hey, uh…since I leave tomorrow and all, you maybe wanna grab some dinner tonight?” Steve asks, voice undignified and cracking. His father checks his watch in response.

 

“Wish I had time for grub, but I need to go into work, got a case that needs wrapping.” Jack replies and Steve feels himself deflate in a way he hasn’t in a very long time.

 

“Okay. Well. See you tomorrow before I go then.”

 

“Don’t worry if you can’t get the car fixed. It’ll give me a project.”

 

Steve bites back the urge to insist he’ll get it running. Truth is, he doesn’t much feel like trying anymore. When he leaves, the car will be just as broken as it is right now.

 

He watches his father walk out of the garage and close the door behind him.

 

Then he wonders if there’s an earlier flight back to California. Hawaii might be where he grew up, but this place isn’t home.

 

From now on, home’s a foot locker, the name of the next op, a far off point on the map. Home is the Navy.

 

He’s never running scared again, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand still.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

The lights of the drug store at this hour are dyseptic and sterile and the muzak tinkering over the PA system makes Mary wonder how anyone works here without killing themselves in an abrupt and brutal fashion.

 

Mary meanders lethargically down the aisle after Steve, who as always is moving like a man on a mission and not like someone who is at a Walgreens at 2am instead of at home sleeping.

 

“I really wish I hadn’t reminded you it was Kono’s birthday tomorrow…or today, or whatever,” Mary yawns, shuffling along in her flip-flops, her too-long flannel pajama pants dragging on the dirty linoleum. She hopes there’s no one cute out at this time of night, because she’d hate to run into someone hot and look as terrible as she does right now.

 

Not that Steve looks much better in faded blue board shorts and a gray Naval Academy t-shirt that has a ragged hem and a rip in the left sleeve. His hair is doing that stupid cowlick thing it used to do when he was little, sticking up in the back because he didn’t brush it after he showered. He needs a haircut.

 

“You _didn’t_ remind me. I already knew. What you reminded me of is that I did not get her a card.”

 

“Like she really expects a card from you. Does Steve McGarrett _give_ cards?”

 

“It’s her birthday. That’s what people do, they give each other cards.”

 

“And stun guns?”

 

Steve stops and turns to her, expression flat and not amused. Mary rolls her eyes at him.

 

“What kind of girl wants a stun gun for her birthday, Steve? I mean, come on.”

 

“Kono would. And she could use it. A stun gun is a handy thing to have. Especially for someone of Kono’s size. She’s a fierce fighter and she can hold her own but there will come a time when she’s going to need a bit of an assist.”

 

“’Here, Kono, have a stun gun because I think you can’t take care of yourself.’ Nice, big brother.”

 

“That’s not what I said.” Steve sighs in exasperation. “Will you just shut up and help me pick something out?”

 

“ _Fine._ Here. This one.” Mary grabs the first flowery, pink birthday card she sees and shoves it at Steve. He reads it and his face crinkles in disgust.

 

“I’d really prefer it if she didn’t vomit.”

 

“Oh, just sign your name to Danny’s card then. I’m sure he got her one, _slap_ your _Hancock_ on there and be done with it already.” Mary smiles smugly; fully aware of how vulgar she managed to make that sentence sound.

 

Steve’s shoulders stiffen and his jaw tightens. He stares at her for a moment like he wants to tell her how unbelievable she is but instead turns back to the display of cards.

 

He picks up something boring, a blue and white number that says _Happy Birthday_ and nothing more.

 

“This one’s fine. Let’s go.”

 

“Aw, Steve, come on.” She begins, _sounding_ apologetic even though she’s not, and Steve tilts his head toward her. She tugs on the sleeve of his loose t-shirt and nods back toward the pharmacy. “You should get some lube while we’re here. Be prepared, that was the Boy Scout motto right?”

 

He loses the battle and the words finally escape him.

 

“You’re unbelievable.” Steve shakes his head at her, looking as wounded as he ever gets, and then he pushes past and heads for the registers.

 

“I was kidding!” Mary pouts.

 

“No you weren’t.” Steve tosses back over his shoulder. Mary sighs and goes after him. It’s an ingrained thing, pushing and pushing and pushing at Steve until she gets a reaction, but the reaction always sets her off kilter when it finally happens. Even though it’s what she’s aiming for, it’s not _really_ what she wants. She’d never admit it out loud, but hurting him is one of the few things that make her feel instantaneous regret.

 

“Hey, look. Sorry.” Mary scrambles to catch up. It makes her feel five again, with Steve’s pace so far outmatching hers. Even in flip-flops rather than boots, he still moves annoyingly fast. He slows as she catches his elbow. “It’s easy to make fun of you and Danny, that’s all. I shouldn’t do it, and I don’t mean anything by it. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”

 

“It doesn’t bother me.” He turns his face away as he speaks.

 

“Either way. Sorry.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Steve nods almost imperceptibly and swallows. “Fine.”

 

Mary squeezes his forearm, wishing he’d look at her, but he doesn’t. And now she feels like she’s sixteen, watching him pack his boxes for school, Steve without the slightest understanding that him leaving meant the end of her world. He never got what he meant to her.

 

But then, she’d never told him.

 

“Let’s just go home.” He says and she lets go.

 

The obviously bored and probably stoned cashier rings them out with minimal conversation, and Steve takes the stupid waste of a plastic bag with his card in it and heads for the automatic sliding doors.

 

They’re already opening as they approach. The frazzled woman walking in with a sleepy child at her side catches Steve’s attention.

 

“Rachel?” Her brother hands her the bag and goes to the woman’s side immediately. “Hey, everything okay? You guys are out late.”

 

“Oh, Commander McGarrett, hello.” This Rachel sounds relieved to see him and Mary figures she’s another of Steve’s former bedmates, though calling him commander seems a bit formal. Maybe this Rachel has a kink. “Everything’s okay.”

 

Everything does not sound okay, and everything also sounds quite British. Maybe she’s someone Steve met abroad. Very posh.

 

“Well, everything’s not okay, Grace is running a high fever and Stan’s away on business. We didn’t have a thing in the house and I couldn’t leave Grace alone.”

 

“Did you call Danny?”

 

 _Danny._ Ah. The pieces fall into place. The ex-wife and Danny’s perfect daughter. Wonderful. She’s never getting home to sleep.

 

“I tried to phone him but he didn’t pick up.”

 

“Hi Steve.” The little girl, Grace, is blinking up at Steve with a happy, slightly dopey smile on her face. Steve drops down to one knee and he’s running a comforting hand through her brown hair like it’s second nature.

 

“Hey, Gracie. Your mom tells me you’re not feeling well.” Mary squints her eyes at her brother. She didn’t know his voice could sound that way. He’s gone all paternal and it’s freaking _weird._

 

Grace lets go of her mother’s hand and wraps her arms around Steve’s neck, nuzzling close to his chest. Steve looks just as surprised by the action as Rachel does, until Grace mumbles _I want Danno_ into his shirt and it kind of makes sense.

 

“Why don’t you go get what you need and I’ll stay here with Grace,” Steve suggests to Rachel as he hugs Grace back, and she nods, looking grateful. She hurries off, high heels clicking linoleum, and seriously who wears high heels at two in the morning, especially paired with a silk bathrobe and nightgown?

 

Steve presses a hand soothingly to Grace’s forehead and then a soft kiss to her temple.

 

“Christ, Steve, she’s not yours,” Mary mumbles to him and Steve looks up at her sharply.

 

“She’s Danny’s, Mare, so she’s all of ours.” There’s no room for discussion in his tone and the look in his eyes tells her that this is not an issue to press him on.

 

Mary waits to speak until he turns his attention back to the little girl in his arms.

 

“Do you want me to try calling Danny again or something? Maybe he was sleeping and didn’t hear his phone,” she offers, holding out her hand. Steve digs his phone from his pocket and gives it to her.

 

“That’d be great. She’s really burning up.” Steve hefts Grace into his arms and stands. He holds her effortlessly like he’s been doing it for years and she snuggles close, halfway back to sleep with her face buried against his neck.

 

Mary finds _Danno_ at the top of her brother’s recent calls list as always, though she’s surprised the last call was Friday night. Two whole days without talking must be a record. She taps Danny’s name and brings the phone to her ear.

 

“McGarrett, the island of Hawaii better be on fire or facing the wrath of aliens right now, swear to god.”

 

“Hawaii is eight islands, dork, and aliens, really?”

 

“Wha…? Who is this?”

 

“It’s not Steve, it’s Mary.”

 

“Mary?” She can hear Danny sit up in bed quickly, springs squeaking. He’s very awake when he speaks next. “What’s going on? Is Steve okay?”

 

“Steve’s fine. We’re here at the drug store with Rachel and Grace. Grace is sick, she has a fever, and Rachel was trying to call you earlier, but-“

 

“Grace is sick? Hang on, I’ll be right there-“

 

Rachel comes clicking back into view, small red box of children’s liquid Tylenol in her hand.

 

“Danny.” Steve informs her and jerks his head toward Mary on the phone.

 

“Is that Danny?” Rachel asks and extends her free hand. Mary tells Danny to hang on a second and hands it over.

 

“She’s all right, Daniel. It’s only a fever. A bit of the flu, I suspect,” Rachel explains immediately over the sound of Danny verbally hyperventilating into the phone. Rachel’s far more calm now than she was a few minutes ago and she manages to check out for her purchase while simultaneously talking Danny down from racing out the door in his boxers to come get them.

 

“No, I called because I was going to ask you to run to the shop to get some medicine…No Danny, I usually do but it was expired and I didn’t want to drag Grace out of bed if I didn’t have to.” She glances at Steve. “No, Steve has her, he’s been a great help. No, Danny, I do not know why Steve is at the store this time of the night. Do you want me to ask him for you? Or perhaps I should just put him on so you two can have a chat.”

 

There’s a few more back and forths, mostly about whether it’s necessary for Danny to come over to the house, and it is eventually decided that it’s not. Mary fully expects Danny to ignore Rachel anyway and go over there. She’s only worked with him a short while and she’s already sure that Danny doesn’t listen to anyone but himself when it comes to his daughter.

 

“He’s impossible, really.” Rachel says as she hangs up, but she sounds more fond than annoyed. Mary takes the phone back from her and sticks it into the pocket of her red hoodie for the time being. “I don’t know how you work with him.”

 

“It’s difficult but we manage,” Steve smiles.

 

“Well he’s a lucky man to have you looking out for him.”

 

Steve honest-to-god _blushes_ and Mary fidgets and bites the inside of her cheek to keep from pointing it out. She itches to mock him with every cell of her body. It’s like she’s one of those stupid Pavlov’s dogs or whatever, the urge is there and she can’t help it.

 

“Come on, I’ll follow you out to your car.” Steve tilts his head toward the doors and Rachel nods with a gentle smile.

 

The parking lot is empty save for Steve’s Chevy and her black Mercedes – of course she drives a Mercedes, she of the high heels and silk. Mary leans against the side of the truck and bites her thumbnail as she watches Steve get Grace situated in the passenger seat. The girl clings to him like she doesn’t want to let go and Mary wonders how much of that is fever and how much of that is real.

 

“Would you like us to follow you home?” Steve offers as he buckles Grace in. Mary knows he’d do it, and carry Grace right upstairs to her bedroom to tuck her in if Rachel showed the slightest hesitation, so that’s why Mary’s glad when Rachel is quick to turn him down.

 

“Oh, thank you but we’ll be all right now. She’ll be right as rain in no time, you know how these things are.” Rachel rubs Steve’s shoulder warmly as he steps back from her car. She looks at him with that mix of affection and attraction that seems to come over everyone when they’re near her brother; Mary thought Rachel had been on to the whole Steve & Danny thing, but the expression on her face leaves Mary second guessing her judgment.

 

But just as quickly, that expression is gone, as if Rachel has remembered herself and who Steve is.

 

At least Steve won’t have to win her over if he and Danny ever get together, _when_ they get together.

 

“When you get home, tell Danny I said hello,” Steve says as he walks Rachel around to the driver’s side of the car. Rachel laughs and makes a pained face.

 

“Bollocks, he really is going to come over no matter what he said, isn’t he?”

 

“You knew that already though.”

 

“Yes, I suppose I did. Well, I blame you entirely for it.”

 

“I have been blamed for worse. What can I say, Gracie needs her Danno.”

 

“That she does.” Rachel agrees softly, and there’s that expression again. But she’s standing now with the light from inside the store striking her face, and Mary can see clearly that it’s more affection than attraction. Rachel likes Steve, maybe even likes him for Danny.

 

Honestly, Mary likes Steve for Danny too. He’s never smiled easier.

 

“Good night, Commander McGarrett.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Goodnight, Rachel. I hope Grace feels better.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Steve waits until Rachel is safely driving away before turning to his own truck. Mary expected he totally forgot she was still here so she’s caught off guard when he squeezes her arm gently before opening the door for her.

 

“Thanks, kiddo.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Steve gets in and goes to start the truck, but Mary reaches over and puts her hand over his on the ignition.

 

“You do know you’re like, ass over head for Danny, right?”

 

Steve’s eyes go wide and then narrow.

 

“I’m too tired to joke around, Mary.”

 

“Who’s joking?” Mary replies honestly and Steve glares at her fiercely. “Seriously, Steve. I’ve never poked my nose into your lovelife before, have I? Like, for real. All these years, and I’ve never once asked you about Chin-“

 

“ _You_ know about Chin? What, was there a _memo?_ ” Steve interrupts but Mary continues on.

 

“But Danny…it’s different and I have to know that you know that. Tell me you know that; tell me you’re not going to fuck this up. Please.”

 

Steve stares at her like he doesn’t recognize her. She’s thrown him for a loop and under any other circumstance she’d be pretty pleased with herself right now.

 

“Tell me.” Mary demands.

 

Steve blinks, and then coughs as he looks away.

 

“Steve.”

 

“I get it. And I know. Okay? I know. And if you must know, Danny knows.”

 

“Danny knows?”

 

“Kind of. I guess. We sorta discussed it.” His gaze is still averted but his hands are going, gesturing the way they do when he’s with Danny or talking about Danny.

 

“What does _that_ mean?”

 

“I don’t want to get into it.”

 

“Too bad.”

 

Steve looks at her with pleading eyes but she’s not having any of it. Mary purses her lips and stares him down.

 

“The SEALs didn’t train you to withstand me, so spill it.”

 

Steve bites his lip.

 

“ _Spill. It._ ”

 

“He said some things, I…did some things, we left it at that.”

 

“And when was that.”

 

“Friday night.”

 

Mary could slap him, he’s so dense. No wonder there’s been two days radio silence between them.

 

“You might want to get that sorted out.”

 

“Fine. Can we stop talking about this?”

 

“Yes.” Mary agrees readily. She’d said what she felt she needed to say, because _someone_ had to bite the bullet and say it, but there’s no need to fucking dwell.

 

Steve doesn’t start the truck immediately. He stares out the side window to the empty parking lot, elbow on the window sill and fist pressed against his mouth.

 

“C’mon.” Mary slaps his shoulder. “I’m effing tired, this night has sucked. Let’s go home.”

 

*******

 

 

 **April, 2002**

 

“Can’t you just take me home? Like last time?”

 

“Or the time before that…or the time before that…?” Chin raises one eyebrow at her.

 

This time, she _is_ in handcuffs.

 

It really was inevitable.

 

“Believe me, I’d like to cut you a break. But I think you’re finally out of get out of jail free cards here.”

 

“It was just a joke,” Mary pleads, pouting. Chin stamps a form in front of him and then puts his signature to something.

 

“Resisting arrest is not a joke,” He sighs, setting his pen down and looking her in the eyes. He hands the form to the officer who had dragged her in, the one now sporting a lovely busted lip.

 

“It’s an elaborate set-up. The punchline’s coming.” Mary retorts. “Promise. It’ll be a real gut-buster.”

 

“I don’t think your father will be laughing after tonight, Mare.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Mary snaps. Mary’s only two syllables for chrissakes, she doesn’t understand why people always insist on shortening it. “And he doesn’t know I’m in town. That’s why I had them call you instead of him to try and get me out of this.”

 

“And you figured…what, that I wouldn’t tell my former partner that his daughter was arrested tonight?”

 

“You were his _partner_? Well, fuck me.” She’d forgotten how small the island could be, how paths can cross and cross again until threads of different relationships tangle and start to form knots. Chin’s bound up in her family good and tight. “Then you gotta be able to do _something_.”

 

“Mary.” The sharp lines of Chin’s angular face seem all the sharper when he frowns like that. If Mary didn’t know he liked dick, she’d pity his future children for having to deal with such stern disappointment. She barely knows the man and he’s making even her feel ashamed solely under the power of that look.

 

“Fine.” She mutters under her breath, kicking her foot against the leg of the desk beside her and staring petulantly at the floor. “Bet you’d figure out a way to help me if Steve were still here.”

 

Mary peers up at him through her bangs to see if that hits and boy, does it ever.

 

Chin’s face shuts down entirely and he takes a step back from her, crossing his arms over his chest. The solid dark blue shirt he’s wearing makes his shoulders look broader and Mary thinks he actually looks kind of imposing.

 

“Mary, you hit a cop. You’re lucky you’re not being charged with something far more serious than resisting arrest. You should be grateful.”

 

“Yeah. I’m _thrilled._ ” Mary picks at her cuticles and shifts in her seat, drawing her legs in close to her chest. “Probably a good thing Grams kicked it already, huh? Silver lining, one less person to disappoint.”

 

Chin doesn’t respond.

 

“Did you go to her funeral?” She inquires, looking up at him, trying to sound nonchalant and not succeeding in the slightest.

 

“Yes, I did.” He adjusts the holstered gun and badge clipped to the waist of his jeans and then leans on the edge of the desk, half-sitting on the corner.

 

“Was my brother there?” Mary feels small, asking about him, admitting something she doesn’t want to with the question.

 

“Yes, he was. You didn’t know?”

 

“I haven’t talked to the jackass since before it happened.”

 

“That’s over three years ago.” Chin doesn’t bother to hide the fact he’s stunned. Mary only shrugs.

 

“He’s busy off saving the world. And I’m still kinda diggin’ wreaking havoc, as you can see, so…” She moves her cuffed hands to the right, her movement restricted not only by the metal accessories but by her form-fitting leather jacket. “He’s over there and –“ She moves her hands to the left. “I’m over here. We aren’t exactly the Bradys. Hell, we aren’t even the Osmonds.”

 

Chin stays silent. Mary plops her hands to the desktop beside her and scratches at the laminate wood with her thumbnail.

 

“He’s in Afghanistan, right?” She sneaks a sideways looks at Chin. “I mean…that’s what I heard, anyway.”

 

Mary tries not to think of Steve over there, in the horrible mess of a war that she sees on the news everyday. It’s too far away, too scary, and knowing her brother is in the middle of it makes it too real. She tries not to picture him walking blind through dust over roads riddled with landmines and loomed over by dark caves where the enemy lurks, waiting anxiously to kill him. But she can’t get the image out of her head.

 

She doesn’t want Steve to be there. She wants him to be here.

 

“I believe he was sent there right after 9/11, yes. But that’s about as much as I know, and that’s because your father told me.”

 

Mary can’t hide her disappointment. She’d expected something more concrete than some vague word-of-mouth she’d already heard herself.

 

“But, like…you guys were… _friends_ or whatever. You have to know more than that.”

 

“Steve and I aren’t exactly pen pals, Mary. I haven’t seen him in three years either.”

 

“Then why’re you givin’ me grief?” Mary sputters, annoyed.

 

“He’s not my brother, is he? He’s yours. Three years means something different to _ohana._ ”

 

“Yeah, well, _ohana_ ’s a made up word.”

 

Chin surprises her by reaching down, taking her hand.

 

“It’s not. Someday I hope you understand how much it’s not.” Chin tells her earnestly. She looks up at him, hoping for a wicked comeback to jump its way down her tongue, but nothing happens. He gives her hand a squeeze and lets go. “Besides, if you didn’t come back for family, why did you come back?”

 

Mary laughs darkly.

 

“Boyfriend won a trip, didn’t see why I didn’t want to go. Made a big freaking deal about it, so…I came. Of course, the jerk ditched me for one of the hula girls at the hotel and now I’m home in Hawaii without a friggin’ place to stay.”

 

“You should really call your father.”

 

“And say what? ‘Hey Pops, guess what, I’m back! Come pick me up at the station’? It’d be like old times.” She smiles despite herself.

 

“Well, he’s been off the job for a year, he might like to stop by and see everyone.” Chin grins too. “He’d probably like the excuse.” He signals for the officer who’d arrested her to come back over. He’d wandered away toward the coffee station when he’d realized she and Chin were going to be talking for a while.

 

Chin whispers something to the guy, and a moment later Mary feels a key being slid into the cuffs and they spring loose around her wrists. The cop glares at her but backs away without saying a word. Chin pats him on the shoulder, thankful, as he stows his cuffs and walks back to his cup of coffee.

 

“You owe me one.”

 

“I owe you more than one,” Mary admits, rubbing her sore wrists and getting up, fixing the waistline of her hip huggers and adjusting her red tank. He picks up her over-sized, over-stuffed bright red purse from the other side of the desk and hands it to her. “You’ve been bailin’ my ass out for _years._ ”

 

“Well. The things you do for family, right?”

 

“Steve should be so lucky,” Mary replies without thinking. Chin glances at her like maybe he thought he misheard her, so she moves on quickly. “Seriously, Chin. Thanks. I know most of the time I’m a pain in the ass and I seem like an ungrateful brat, but I really do appreciate it.”

 

“Maybe one of these days I’ll see you outside these four walls, huh? Think we can make that happen?”

 

He looks at her like a preschool teacher might a small child, trying to sweetly exact a promise to behave. Mary casts a look around the station, which really looks no different than it did when she was five or fifteen. There may be more computers, but the walls are still that institutional shade of yellow and it smells of day old coffee.

 

“Funnily enough, this is the first place that’s felt like home since I’ve been back,” she observes, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have stayed arrested, I totally need a place to crash tonight.”

 

“Uh-uh, McGarrett, out you go.” Chin shakes his head at her, pointing to the door.

 

“What, you got something better to do than hang with me?”

 

“Hey, I’m a successful detective now. I just made this huge drug bust and I have a lot of paperwork to do. You’re taking up my valuable time here,” Chin winks at her and Mary pretends to be awed.

 

“Oo, a big drug bust. How big, Officer Kelly?”

 

“A cool twenty-eight mil if you believe that.”

 

“Your name in the papers?”

 

“Picture too.”

 

“Color or black & white?”

 

“Color.”

 

“Impressive.”

 

“You didn’t know you were talking to a local hero.”

 

“But now I do, and I am sufficiently impressed.” Mary gives Chin a brief flash of a hug, more like an attack than an embrace, and then pushes away from him, bouncing toward the door. “One more favor, superstar?”

 

“Hmm?” Chin’s got that raised eyebrow again, like he knew there had to be another catch coming.

 

“Don’t tell my dad about this ‘til tomorrow?”

 

“Why tomorrow?”

 

“Cause I’ll be back in L.A. by then.” Mary pauses at the doorway, pulling her best pleading expression out and working it hard. Chin rolls his eyes and looks at the clock on the wall above her head. She follows his look.

 

“I’ll give you 12 hours, but I’m not lying to the man.”

 

“Deal. Thanks!” Mary bolts before he changes his mind.

 

*******

 **Present**

 

Kono runs, pushing as hard as she can, and dodges behind the dumpster.

 

She feels something hit her, like being smashed in the ribs with a sledgehammer, and she spins from the force of it and collides with metal and brick.

 

“No, no, no!” _That’s Steve_ , the thought registers, and he sounds panicked. It’s not until a moment later that it occurs to her that his shout was about her. He saw her go down.

 

She’s down.

 

This isn’t what she thought getting shot would feel like.

 

“Kono!” She can hear Chin shouting, muddled through a hail of bullets and the ringing in her ears. She’s not sure how long it takes for him to get to her; it’s like time suspended and she’s floating.

 

“Kono! Are you hit?” His hands are patting her all over in a less-than efficient way, bouncing from her head to her arm to her stomach back to her head. He grips both sides of her face and slaps her cheek a few times gently. “Cuz, come on, talk to me.”

 

Her vision is clearing and she can make out his face now, the blur in front of her eyes sharpening into distinguishable features. He looks terrified and that scares her more than anything else. It hurts to breathe and she’s gasping for air. She wonders if she’s bleeding.

 

The gunfire around them stops, and in the distance comes Steve’s sharp voice ordering someone to stay the fuck down. He’s yelling Chin’s name, then her name, and a moment later following rapid footfall, Danny is next to Chin too.

 

“Kono. Kono!” Danny is dropping to his knees on the asphalt.

 

She manages to lift her head, surveying her body and bringing her hands to her chest. There are jagged bullet holes underneath her fingertips. There’s no blood, just the singed smell of gunpowder.

 

“’T’s ‘kay…hit the vest.” Kono wheezes, reaching out to grab Chin’s wrist and calm him down. “They hit the vest. ‘M all right.”

 

“Thank god.” She struggles to sit up; they each grab an arm and help her. Her hand finds the edge of the dumpster and hangs on. Her feet feel unsteady and she’s dizzy.

 

Sirens are wailing in the distance. They could have used that five minutes ago.

 

“An ambulance is on its way. So’s HPD.” Steve’s announcement precedes him appearing in her line of vision. “Where’s she hit?”

 

He moves Danny out of the way and Danny looks back from where Steve came, dismayed.

 

“What the hell'd you do with the shooters? What are you doing?”

 

“They’re handcuffed to the railing, right over there. Trust me, they’re not going anywhere. Kono, are you all right?”

 

“Fine, Boss.”

 

“She got two in the chest, center of the vest. Thank god they weren’t armor-piercing rounds, that’s all I can say,” Chin states. He’s still pale as a ghost.

 

“You can’t just walk away from two guys who were shooting at us a minute ago!” Danny yelps, hands rat-a-tatting like guns, and Steve turns to him, squinting at his partner like he’s speaking a different language.

 

“Kono’s hurt, Danny.” He gestures to Kono, and then back toward their prisoners. “They’re secure.”

 

“They’re handcuffed to a railing. That is not ‘secure.’ Did you even frisk them?”

 

“ _Yes._ Calm down.”

 

“Kono, are you sure you’re all right?” Danny whirls away from Steve and locks his eyes on her. She nods, wincing.

 

“All right enough.”

 

Satisfied, Danny pivots on his heel and glares at Steve, arm waving back toward the cuffed perps.

 

“Then I’m going to go keep an eye on our guys until we can get them _properly_ secured.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes angrily as Danny stalks away, muttering to himself. He re-centers his attention back on Kono and she feels a little bit grateful that their squabble was mercifully short.

 

“Kono, you should stay put until the EMTs get here and check you over. I’ve been through this myself a few times, you probably broke a few ribs. Can you breathe all right?” Steve sets a hand on her shoulder and he gives her a visual once over, looking for any other injuries.

 

Kono takes inventory, lifting her arms to survey the damage.

 

Apart from brush burns and scrapes on her wrists and hands from the fall and a goose egg quickly forming on her forehead from hitting the dumpster, Kono can’t feel anything else loudly buzzing with pain. Her chest is just a constant throb, with pressure like someone is sitting on her sternum, and she’s unable to decipher what in particular about it hurts the most.

 

“Can’t believe I got hit.” Kono says, a bit breathless. It’s all coming back under control, the whole inhale-exhale business, but it’s not quite hers again yet. “I don’t know how you do this on a regular basis, Boss.”

 

“You kinda get used to it,” Steve shrugs and her cousin rolls his eyes and rolls them hard.

 

“ _Don’t_ you dare get used to it,” Chin tells her sharply.

 

A couple of squad cars roll in, light bars flashing.

 

“Just take it slow, don’t move. Be right back.” Steve walks over to brief the arriving officers on the situation and Kono glances at her cousin.

 

“Was it just me, or were we all like, mega out of synch today?”

 

“Wasn’t just you.” Chin mumbles. He puts his hand on her shoulder but his eyes wander toward Steve. “This was messy.”

 

“Going to guns is always kind of messy though, right?” Kono points out, pushing her hair back from her face and finding that even the simple movement makes her ache.

 

“Not like this. We’re all moving like we’re green. A bunch of rookies could have done the same job. They could have done it _better._ ” Chin shakes his head in disappointment, frowning. His gaze remains trained on Steve, who is pointing the patrol officers toward Danny and then heading back toward her and Chin.

 

“Ambulance is here,” Steve calls once he’s in earshot, gesturing down the alley behind them. The driver flips the siren twice quickly to announce their arrival and clear the path.

 

“That was quick.” Kono comments. She steadies herself on her feet and begins slowly walking toward it.

 

“Kono, no, no, let them come to you.”

 

“I got it, Boss. Got the wind knocked out of me is all.” She starts undoing the Velcro on her vest, eager to get the weight off. It’s heavy on a normal day, now it feels twice as bad.

 

Chin and Steve follow her over to the back of the bus like concerned parents, only a step behind her and hands outstretched to catch her if she wavers. One of the medics has to ask them to back up so he can start checking her over.

 

Danny joins them a few minutes later. He’s sweating miserably, his hair wind-mussed from the breeze coming off the ocean.

 

“Guys are on their way to lock-up. Are we all okay over here?”

 

“We’d like to take Officer Kalakaua in for a CT, make sure everything’s okay as far as internal bleeding. Take some x-rays and check on those ribs.”

 

“I don’t need-“

 

“Yes you do.” Steve surprisingly beats both Chin and Danny to the punch. “Take her in, we’ll meet you there.”

 

“Yes sir.” The EMT starts packing up his equipment and bundling Kono into the back.

 

Like he thinks she’s no longer listening, Chin takes a step away from the ambulance and points a finger at Steve.

 

“We have to talk. Now.” He says, pointing also at Danny and including him in the conversation.

 

“Can it wait?” Steve inquires, glancing toward her in the ambulance. Now doesn’t seem like the choicest time for entering into discussion.

 

“No. It can’t. You two need to get your heads on straight.”

 

Kono waves off the medic and starts to get back out of the ambulance. This doesn’t sound good. The last time she heard Chin use that voice, her cheating boyfriend had wound up punched in the face, laid out on the pavement in front of Waiola Shave Ice. He’d had the misfortune of bumping into Chin in the middle of a comfort food break-up consolation run.

 

“Excuse me?” Steve challenges immediately.

 

“You. And Danny. I don’t know what’s going on, and frankly I wouldn’t care, except Kono almost got _killed_ today because you two have spent more time dancing around each other than communicating.”

 

“I’m the problem?” Danny interjects, scoffing. “How am I the problem. You’re the one who twitches every time Steve comes into the room.”

 

“He does not.” Steve denies it but Kono has to admit Danny’s right. Not that Chin doesn’t have a point too.

 

They’re _all_ on pins and needles around one another.

 

An outsider probably would’ve expected that she, the only female on a team of men, would be the one causing the sexual tension. If she could laugh without it hurting...

 

“And you, riding with Kono all week?” Chin asks Danny.

 

“So what.”

 

“Steve’s driving your car and you’re not even in it.”

 

“Steve drives my car all the time, _now_ you suddenly have a problem with it?”

 

“Guys, come on. Maybe you should take this back to HQ.” Kono stares hard at her cousin, telling him with her eyes to back off this whole thing or at least do it somewhere else.

 

“Yeah, we’ll discuss this later. Much, much later, when we’re done, y’know, _doing our jobs_. Now, Kono, you to the hospital, we’re right behind you. Danny, you’re with me.” Steve jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the Camaro. “Chin, grab Kono’s car and meet us there.”

 

Chin gives Steve a look that’s the equivalent of the middle finger and walks away without another word. Steve’s stare lingers on her cousin’s back for a few moments until he blinks, claps a hand to her shoulder once and turns to leave. Danny shoots her an apologetic glance and follows.

 

“You guys are the Five-O, huh?” The medic asks as she climbs back into the ambulance. He looks skeptical.

 

“Yeah,” Kono replies, annoyed by his expression. “What?”

 

“Nothing. I heard you were all bad ass.”

 

“We are,” Kono defends. “We…we’re just having a bad week, is all.”

 

“Uh-huh.” If anything, it sounds like his doubt increases. Kono could easily punch him right now and not feel the slightest bit badly about it.

 

“I’m sorry, we busted a drug ring and I got shot twice in the chest already, and it’s barely past noon. What did you do today?” She snaps and the kid looks taken aback. “Now how about we get to the hospital, cause I have shit I need to do.”

 

She sits down and suppresses a smile as the EMT hurries to shut the ambulance doors. He pounds the roof twice with his hand and the engine rumbles to life.

 

Of course they’re badass. And they will continue to be badass. Chin, Danny and Steve will work it out. Or she’ll work it out for them, because really. They’re Five-O, and they’re too awesome to go down like this.

 

*******

 

 

 **October, 2010**

 

“You know, this is one of the awesome things they never tell you about in Academy.”

 

“What, shopping for weapons?” Steve sets a can of mace on the counter next to a box of ammo and a windage and elevation adjustment tool. He smiles at her the way he usually only smiles after busting a criminal or Danny’s chops. “I know.”

 

Kono sets down the military spec Crimson Trace Lasergrip, thinking of how nicely it would have fit her Beretta. She considers idly mentioning it to Steve, ‘cause he’d probably slip it onto the governor’s bill without a second thought, but an annoying voice in the back of her head tells her she doesn’t _really_ need it.

 

Much like she doubts Steve will _really_ need a Hallagan, but she suspects that in purchasing it, he’s probably guaranteeing he’ll find an occasion to use it.

 

“Danny needs a new Mag-Lite, right? I remember him saying something about Gracie breaking his when she was out searching for unicorns or something.” Steve’s brow is furrowed as he surveys the store for the right aisle to track one down. He’s off before Kono can remind him that Danny said he didn’t need a damn thing. And that Grace lost Danny’s Mag-Lite by dropping it into the water when searching for sunken treasure.

 

If Danny were here, he’d most likely be putting things back as quickly as Steve could pick them up. And Danny would also most likely be right, but Kono doesn’t so much care. She’s enjoying this side of Steve. He’s like a kid in a candy store, and they’ve been bonding over grips and clips and sights and attachments for the better part of two hours already.

 

Steve apparently knows how to use and _has_ used every weapon known to man. The way he handles a gun kinda makes her hot and bothered. If she wasn’t sure it was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, she might suggest a pit stop at the first hotel they find before heading back to HQ.

 

But that’s just adrenaline and hormones talking, some kind of Glock and cock combination that she finds attractive when coupled with competence and a nice pair of biceps.

 

Besides, Steve may be able to kill someone with nothing but his pinkie finger and a pack of bubble gum, but Chin would be a formidable foe if he ever found out Steve had been anything less than professional with his baby cousin.

 

Not that Steve would ever try. After all, first time they’d met she’d been wearing nothing but a flimsy bikini and he’d looked her straight in the eyes and complimented her right cross.

 

“Maybe we could hit the range, fire off a few rounds before heading back to the office,” Kono suggests as Steve walks back into view with a heavy black flashlight in hand, that damn white t-shirt covering those damn tattoos just enough to make them _that much more_ tantalizing. She pushes her hair back from her face and looks at her boss hopefully.

 

She could really use the release, and honestly the practice couldn’t hurt.

 

Steve’s phone vibrates; interrupting what she’s sure was going to be an agreement with her suggestion.

 

“Danny’s wondering where we are. Apparently we’re out of coffee back at HQ.” Steve raises his gaze from the phone’s screen to her, dismay across his face. “His main concern is coffee? The guy’s a walking cliché.”

 

“Hey, at least he didn’t ask you to pick up donuts.”

 

“Forget that, I’m still cleaning malasada crumbs out of my couch.” Kono’s not sure how that connects. “Danny doesn’t quite understand how to keep all his food in his mouth.”

 

Kono got _that_ part. What she wondered is why Danny was eating malasadas on Steve’s couch, but she guesses Steve didn’t pick up on that nuance in her confusion.

 

Steve texts something back, small little smirk on his face.

 

“There’s a bodega like two blocks down from here, right? We’ll swing by there on the way back.” Steve takes stock of the cache of weapons and supplies they’ve piled on the counter and seems pleased. “You all set with this?”

 

He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for input. Kono nods, satisfied.

 

“Think this should hold us, Boss.”

 

“Kay, guess we’re good then.” Steve nods to the clerk. The guy had been keeping a running tally as they stockpiled, and after adding a few last things and double-checking his work, he slides a three-ply carbon copy across the counter for Steve to sign.

 

Steve doesn’t even check the total. A quick illegible scrawl and then he’s hauling their new goodies into his arms and heading toward the exit.

 

He has her car keys – she’s still not quite sure how that happened – and he pops the trunk. They carefully put their purchases inside next to her backup swim gear and patrol bag, and then lock up. There’s nothing in there terribly dangerous on its own, but if Steve feels any apprehension on leaving their things unattended and separated from the public by a flimsy lock, he doesn’t show it. Her keys are back in one of his many, many pockets and he’s pointing toward the shop.

 

“Coffee.”

 

The bell dings above the door as they walk into the tiny corner store. Steve’s a head taller than all the shelving, like the shop was made for people Danny’s height and not his.

 

“Y’know, Boss, there are about a million places to get some fresh ground Blue around here.” Kono follows him, a few steps behind. She eyes the products cynically, thinking that Steve should know better than to waste _kala_ on this shit.

 

“Believe me, I know,” he grunts, rolling his eyes.

 

“So…Folgers. Why.”

 

“Hey. I, personally, wouldn’t be caught dead drinking this stuff, but Danny insists on national brand sludge that you can find in Jersey, so here we are. _Plastic red jug_ of coffee.” Steve lifts it off the shelf and tucks it under his arm.

 

“You’re a good partner,” Kono assures him.

 

“I _am_ a good partner. Please remember this and back me up next time Danno’s riding my ass, would you?”

 

Steve picks up a package of DoubleStuf Oreos too, and then snags a bag of Cheetos.

 

“Tell me that’s not for you.” Kono says. If it is, there’s a good chance Steve McGarrett was replaced with a pod person somewhere in the span of the last five minutes.

 

Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

 

“Danny loves this crap. Processed, unhealthy, disgusting crap.” He holds up one of the bags, pointing to the nutrition label with a frown. “It makes him happy, and therefore…”

 

“The rest of us happy.” She supplies, the logic easy to follow.

 

“See, you file these things away, Kono. The little things are what keep a team running smoothly.”

 

“What’s my junk food of choice then?” Kono challenges him and he grins.

 

“Swedish Fish. And Chin likes trail mix, so don’t bother asking.” He heads her off.

 

“And what about you.” She inquires as she grabs a can of Pringles, another Danny fave, thinking she’s helping. But Steve shakes his head, muttering something about them giving Danny horrible breath, and takes them from her. He sets them down and picks up a different flavor.

 

He doesn’t reply to her question.

 

“Play fair, McGarrett.” She tsks and Steve shrugs.

 

“Ask Danny. See if he knows,” Steve responds with a smirk, circling toward the front of the store.

 

“Protein bars don’t count as junk food, just so you know,” Kono comments. Steve’s slowing to a stop in front of her, ducking back down the aisle and his face turning serious. He quietly and cautiously sets down all of his items on the nearest shelf, careful not to make a noise. Something’s up.

 

His eyes jerk toward the security mirror hanging in the corner. In the warped reflection Kono can see a young male at the front counter, gun tucked into the back of his belt. Caucasian, maybe 18-20, pretty high and strung out on something, though she’s not sure what. He’s rail thin and clearly tweaked, rocking back and forth in agitation.

 

She nods, draws her own gun as Steve draws his. She watches him carefully, following his lead, and they move into position without saying a word.

 

The kid’s about to reach for his gun, hand moving back, when Steve snaps into action.

 

“Freeze!” Kono shouts. “Five-O.”

 

“Don’t move.” Steve warns. Of course, the guy doesn’t listen. The idiocy of criminals is staggering. But she supposes through a cloud of drugs, maybe Steve looks beatable. Out-runnable. He bolts for the door.

 

Steve drops the kid as easy as breathing, sending him flat on his back with little to no effort at all. Steve rolls him onto his stomach and grabs his weapon; pins his wrists with one hand.

 

Kono re-holsters her gun and pulls her cuffs.

 

“Nice work, boss.”

 

“You too, Kono.” He backs up as Kono pulls the young guy up from the linoleum. It’s like picking up a bag of twigs, the kid’s so underweight.

 

“I didn’t do nothing!” He insists.

 

“Uh-huh,” Kono ignores his feeble protests and reads him his rights. The clerk behind the counter is staring at them, wide-eyed, hands still in the air. Steve gives him a nod as he tucks his gun away. That’s about all the comfort or explanation he offers.

 

“It’s okay now, sir. We’re police.” Kono assures the middle-aged man. He manages to look a little relieved, but mostly he stays frozen with panic.

 

“Danny’s gonna have a field day with this one,” Steve snorts, watching as their prisoner uselessly struggles against his handcuffs and Kono’s strong grip.

 

“Why?”

 

“Something about attracting conflict, I don’t know. He’s somehow gonna say this was my fault.” Steve pulls his cell phone and starts dialing. “How about you take this idiot out front and I’ll call it in.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Kono makes the guy sit with his back to the wall and waits for Steve to come out. He’s probably doing a quick sweep, making sure there’s no one else in the place that needs taking care of. It’s only a minute before he joins her.

 

“HPD’s on the way and they’ll take him off our hands.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Oh, shit.” Steve spins on his heel and opens the shop’s door again, ducking back inside without any explanation. Kono sighs and checks her watch. Their perp is trying to inch away from her and she has to roll her eyes.

 

“You won’t be able to get far, but if you try it I might have to bust one of your kneecaps.” Kono warns him. He stops moving and looks up at her, wide-eyed. She shrugs innocently. “Just sayin’.”

 

Steve re-emerges from the shop with a plastic bag full of all the crap he’d gathered up as they’d wound their way through the store. Kono can’t do anything but stare at him. He’s so ridiculous.

 

“What?” Steve asks, actually clueless as to why she’s confounded. “We still need it, don’t we?”

 

“All due respect, Boss…you’re crazy.”

 

“Like I’m not showing up with Danny’s coffee after all that.” Steve remarks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the whole wide world, and that’s when Kono realizes what she should’ve realized a long time ago. It’s funny how much it simultaneously surprises her while feeling like she should have seen it all along.

 

Steve _adores_ Danny. There’s no other word for it. Given any set of circumstances, Steve will almost always make everything about Danny, connect it back to Danny, do anything to mention Danny.

 

She doesn’t know if Danny realizes he and Steve are best friends forever and ever and always, but Steve, well, Steve would throw himself in front of a moving bus if it meant saving Danny’s ass. The bromance is in full bloom.

 

Though she doubts Steve has any clue as to what a bromance is. He doesn’t exactly strike her as someone up on recent slang or who wastes his time watching MTV.

 

“What?” Steve asks, squinting at her in the sunlight. She’s staring, maybe smiling, and he’s bewildered by her attention.

 

“Nothing,” she shrugs. Maybe she’ll fill him in some day, but she figures Steve’s a smart guy. He can probably figure it out on his own. “Let’s go. Danny’s waiting.”

 

“I’ll drive.” He says, her keys reappearing from the depths of his cargo pant pockets.

 

Kono was already heading to the passenger side anyway – Steve McGarrett may zig when she thinks he’s going to zag, but one thing’s for sure. He’ll always drive.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

Steve puts the car in park and switches off the radio.

 

He had attempted to start two sentences on the short drive over to the hospital and he’d gotten nowhere. There’d been a few vowels, the possibility of a consonant, but that was about it.

 

Danny hadn’t fared much better. He’d sputtered uselessly in a hopeless series of fits and starts before giving up and turning on the classic rock station, letting The Rolling Stones fill the space between them.

 

Steve rests his right wrist on the top of the steering wheel and his left elbow on the window ledge, his hand at his mouth as he studies his reflection in the side view mirror.

 

Danny watches him unguardedly for a moment, wondering why this is so hard. Then he reminds himself – It’s Steve, why wouldn’t it be hard. If it were easy, it wouldn’t have taken the bombshell of Steve and Chin’s past to shake up their present. It would have just… _happened_. Like maybe it already should have.

 

Danny really figured he’d have something to say about this whole thing. He didn’t expect to find himself struggling for words at a time like this. He’d thought he’d have plenty to say and Steve wouldn’t even want to hear it. Steve would just want to _do_. That’s how they’re supposed to work.

 

Steve acts, and he reacts.

 

It’s his turn to react now. But his brain isn’t cooperating.

 

Steve takes a deep breath and drops his hand from by his mouth. He snaps his head to look at Danny and licks his lips once before talking.

 

“Look, I know you were drunk but you do remember what happened the other night, right?”

 

“If by ‘what happened’ you mean the kissing, the you kissing me, then yes, I do recall that, yes. I was there.” Danny gestures between them. He holds Steve’s gaze as long as he can, but Steve outlasts him. He obviously wants Danny to respond differently, with something more. The only things Danny has in mind are uncomfortable admissions of how much he’d enjoyed said kissing, and he’s not about to let that fly.

 

“Uh-huh.” Steve nods once and sucks his bottom lip under his front teeth. “And also the whole you telling me you wanted me. That too.”

 

“Yep, remember that too!” Danny’s voice rises in embarrassment and one hand comes up to brush the side of his own face, rubbing his chin. He wishes Steve hadn’t brought that up, he’d maybe hoped they could slide right on past that detail.

 

“Okay. So. Now that we’ve got that established – Why are we not talking about it? We are two grown men. We are consenting adults. Why _wouldn’t_ we talk about it?”

 

“I do not know, Steve. Do grown men usually sit around talking about their feelings?”

 

“Well they do if they obviously need to be talked about.”

 

“I take it from your tone that this is one of those ‘obvious’ situations.” Danny is on the verge of mocking; it’s his default setting, reverted to in times of crisis. From the look on Steve’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t appreciate it in the slightest. He’s putting himself out there, Danny could at least meet him halfway.

 

He wants to, but he’s not sure how.

 

“Do you think I _want_ to sit in this car and talk about this with you? You think I wouldn’t rather move on from this?”

 

“Move on?” Danny’s face screws up in puzzlement and a bit of alarm. He may not be sure what he’s doing here, but he doesn’t want Steve to make the decision for him. He doesn’t want Steve declaring this all a mistake and saying forget it all ever happened. “Move on to where?”

 

“My point exactly.”

 

“Yeah, Captain Cryptic, that doesn’t really help, buddy.”

 

“Danny, Kono got _shot_ today.” Steve’s got his no bullshit voice coupled with his no bullshit stare and it’s a potent combination.

 

Danny’s face falls and he shifts in his seat, adjusts his collar. They always hide behind this banter thing they do, but at some point, something real has to be said. They’re at that point now and Danny has to man up.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They both look out the front windshield. Danny’s brow furrows as he thinks and when he sneaks a glance at Steve, his eyebrows are drawn tight too.

 

Steve sighs heavily.

 

“What?” Danny asks, hearing the implication in Steve’s exhale. “I don’t know _how_ to talk about it. Do you? What do you even say.”

 

“I have no clue.”

 

Danny considers and then turns in his seat, face lightening the way it does when he thinks he’s onto something, his hands accompanying his voice as he works it out.

 

“Okay, how about this. It’s clear, here, okay, that there’s a lot at stake. Y’know. If we do this. Right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“I happen to like my job, despite the gunfire and the crazy. I’d like to keep it and, how’s this for nuts, also for everyone to stay in one piece.”

 

“Agreed.” Steve seems to be concentrating really hard, like this is difficult to follow. It’s a little amusing, but Danny finds himself really appreciating the focus and attention.

 

“And then there’s the whole we’re both guys thing, which is weird for me. I know it’s not as weird for you, but-“

 

“It’s weird for me.” Steve interrupts.

 

“Okay, it’s weird for the both of us,” Danny corrects, though honestly, he doesn’t see how he and Steve compare. Steve’s been with Chin, and he’s been with, well, nobody. No guys, anyway. But he lets it slide, knowing it’s an argument he won’t win.

 

“Also agreed.”

 

“But you still wanna…?” Danny’s eyebrows lift and he makes a forward movement, wheels turning motion with both his hands.

 

“Yeah. I do.” Steve pauses. “You?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Danny looks at his partner, feeling like even with that under their belt, they haven’t gotten very far. It _would_ be a lot easier if they could _do_ something, if he could do it the way Steve surely would, lean across the cab and kiss him and that’d be that. But he knows that’d bring them right back to this place, eventually. Asking what it meant and what the hell they’re actually doing.

 

“So what now? Do I ask you out?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I ask you out. Why are you doing the asking.” Danny counters, affronted.

 

“I’m not doing the asking. I’m _asking_ about the asking.”

 

“There’s a difference?”

 

“Yes, there’s a difference.”

 

“Because I could just as easily ask you to go out with me, is what I’m saying.”

 

“Okay then, you ask me out.” Steve prepares himself like he’s offering his stomach for Danny to take a free punch.

 

“I need your permission?”

 

“I don’t know, do you?”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“No, actually I do. I-“ Steve cuts Danny off, grabbing his light blue tie and roughly pulling him across the front seat of the car. Their lips crash a little too hard, but Steve welcomes it; he opens his mouth and takes advantage of Danny’s surprise.

 

“Hate you so much,” Danny finishes his sentence when Steve gives him a chance to breathe and Steve smiles, nips at his bottom lip.

 

“How much?”

 

“So _so_ much.” Danny murmurs even as he tilts his head cooperatively, angling and easing in for another, more gentle and even-keeled kiss. His fingers wrap around the fabric of Steve’s collar, holding on tightly and pulling him in closer. Steve goes willingly.

 

“I can see that.” Steve replies, one hand still tangled with Danny’s tie and the other winding loose in Danny’s hair.

 

Danny abandons Steve’s collar and presses his palms against Steve’s neck, his collarbone. Steve matches his movement, the hand in Danny’s hair sliding down his jaw line, cupping his cheek, and then sliding to the back of his neck.

 

His touch is warm and confident and Danny likes the assured feeling of it, that sensation that Steve _wants_. Wants with the kind of fierceness only Steve McGarrett has. Danny wants too; wants enough to be the first one to break and moan into their kiss.

 

But Steve, he wants enough to slide his hand down Danny’s chest and brush his fingertips against the cool metal of Danny’s belt buckle.

 

“We have to go inside and check on Kono.” Danny states weakly, absolutely no willpower backing up his words. Steve nods a little and lets his fingers dip lower. Danny exhales sharply and pulls back slightly, resting their foreheads together as he looks down at Steve’s exploring hand. “That means stop trying to make me hard, man.”

 

“Oh, that’s what I’m doing?” Steve pretends innocence and dips to kiss Danny’s neck, hand continuing on and showing no signs of stopping. Danny snorts derisively, but rocks his hips up into Steve’s touch all the same, his lips drifting to brush the fading bruise across Steve’s cheek.

 

Not about to be outdone, Danny goes on an offensive of his own. Within moments his palm is warm on the inseam of Steve’s pants, riding high up Steve’s thigh and rubbing his cock through the thin fabric. It feels really fucking good when Steve’s breath stutters sharply against his cheek. His face lifts in a smile.

 

“Not so funny now, huh babe?” Danny teases breathlessly, his triumph rendered null and void as Steve reclaims his mouth and ratchets up the intensity tenfold.

 

“Been halfway there all day, Danno, just lookin’ at you.” Steve retorts. The words slide out like a groping come-on but Danny can hear the truth in them, like Steve hadn’t even thought, he’d merely blurted out _exactly_ what he felt. He’s well into Danny’s half of the car now, dominating his space.

 

Danny groans in frustration and wrenches his hands to Steve’s shoulders, pushes hard. He manages to create about two inches of space between them, space that’s already closing as they automatically drift back toward each other.

 

“Do not say shit like that, McGarrett. We gotta go in that hospital now with decent folk and _children_ and I _cannot_ be popping one, all right?” Danny holds up a hand between their faces, stopping the next kiss from happening. Fuck, he’s so turned on right now he can’t even think straight and Steve needs to stop, he needs to listen this once. “So just…yeah. Over there.” He points, waving Steve backward. “Back up, cowboy.” Steve pulls away reluctantly and retreats to his side of the car.

 

They stare at one another. Danny is reeling, a bit shell-shocked, but he can see Steve let himself relax a little.

 

“Glad we got that settled,” Steve comments and Danny’s face screws up.

 

“Settled? There’s been nothing settled here. Not at all.”

 

Steve shrugs, resting a hand on the steering wheel and tapping his fingers on the vinyl.

 

“Well, okay, maybe not. But I feel better about things. Don’t you feel better about things?”

 

“I feel better about _some_ things.” Danny differentiates quickly, because as always he’s about shades of grey, whereas Steve sees all the colors of the rainbow and figures one of them will surely work because one almost always does. If he knows Steve, he’s sure the guy’s elaborate master plan is to climb all over each other in the back seat and let the rest shake out afterward, but Danny’s not about to let that happen.

 

He sighs and adjusts the prominent bulge tenting his pants.

 

“This is so ridiculous.” He mumbles to himself, shaking his head. Steve bites his lip to keep from laughing but he’s not all that successful. Danny wants to smack the smirk off of his face, the smug jerk with those stupid eyes and stupid mouth and stupid everything.

 

Steve reaches down and turns the car off and extends the keys to Danny.

 

“Let’s go get Kono.”

 

Danny looks at his keys as if seeing them for the first time in a long time.

 

“Oh, I can have my keys? Thank you. Thank you for my own keys. Perhaps I can even drive my car later. That’d be a new experience for me.”

 

“Perhaps you can, Danno.” Steve states and climbs out of the Camaro. Danny remains in the car, muttering things under his breath until Steve comes around to the passenger side and opens Danny’s door. “C’mon. You’re fine. Get out.”

 

Danny glares up at him as he steps out. Steve backs him against the car door the second he has it closed.

 

“For the record, Danno…I want this to happen. This you and me thing. Just so we’re clear.”

 

“Crystal.” Danny replies shortly, scowling. This isn’t how he wanted this to go. When he thought about this, and he did think about this, he figured he’d be the one taking the risks and Steve would be the one pussying around the emotional stuff, reluctant to talk it all out in the open. But as usual, Steve’s surprising him and pissing him off all at once.

 

Steve’s waiting for him to say something more but Danny again finds nothing but frustration when his tongue turns clumsy and can’t form the right words.

 

“Fine.” Steve mutters. He slaps the roof of the Camaro beside Danny’s head, pushing off the car and heading up the broad sidewalk that leads the hospital’s main entrance.

 

Danny takes a deep breath. Ball’s in his court now, and he has to take it in, finish it off.

 

“Go out with me.” Danny’s words hit Steve’s back like a shot and make him turn around instantly. Danny stands there with his hands in his pockets, feet firmly planted on the concrete.

 

“Was that a question?” Steve asks.

 

“No.”

 

Danny strolls to Steve’s side, a bit pleased with himself now that he’s gained a bit of ground, a bit of traction. He knows where to take this from here.

 

“It was not a question, and no, you do not get to pick the place.”

 

“Do you even _know_ a place? You’ve been to like three places on this whole island total, one of which is Chuck E. Cheese.”

 

“Like I would take Grace to Chuck E. Cheese. No daughter of mine consorts with creepy cartoon mice.”

 

“What about Mickey Mouse? What’ve you got against Mickey Mouse?”

 

“Shut up. I said creepy, Mickey Mouse is not creepy, he is lovable. And I happen to know more about Oahu than you think. I may even surprise you, McGarrett.”

 

Steve has a snarky comeback on the tip of the tongue but Danny practically sees him swallow it.

 

“I…I will look forward to it, Danno.”

 

“Damn right you will.” Danny states. “I will pick you up at eight.”

 

“I’ll be ready.” Steve digs his phone from his front pocket and texts Chin that they’ve arrived. A moment later Chin texts him back their location.

 

Danny puts his hand on the small of Steve’s back as they round the corner to the exam room where Kono and Chin are waiting, and just like it always has, it seems the most natural thing in the world. Except now that feeling makes sense.

 

Kono’s smile is bright and knowing as she looks between them.

 

“And what took you two so long to get here?” She inquires with a devilish glint in her eyes.

 

Danny smoothes his hand through his hair self-consciously and realizes too late that that’s as much an admission that anyone needs.

 

“How’re you feeling, Kono?” Steve, ever the master of abrupt re-direction, asks.

 

“Like I got pounded by a bag of bricks,” she replies honestly. Chin, sitting beside the bed, pats her hand and then rises to his feet.

 

“I’m going to go get her some water. I’ll be back.” He looks at her, but not at them. When he walks between him and Steve to get out the door, Danny catches a look on Steve’s face that he’d rather not see again.

 

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret, but it’s something and it needs to be nothing.

 

Steve takes a step to go after Chin but Danny sets a hand on his arm.

 

“I got it.”

 

He’s a step outside the door into the hallway when he hears Steve apologize to Kono.

 

“I’m sorry.” He’d sounded so damn alive in the car a minute ago, but his voice is dead now.

 

“Don’t be.” Kono replies sweetly, more understanding than he really ever expected her to be. Chin’s her cousin and her best friend, after all. “You guys are good together.”

 

“Yeah…” Steve says, and that’s it. But the word lifts in hope and that’s enough for Danny to feel okay. He walks after Chin knowing that Steve, the Steve that kissed him in his car and told him he wants this, will be there when he gets back.

 

*******

 

 

 **November, 2010**

 

“He seems like a lovely man.” Amy comments a bit wistfully, her eyes following Steve as he moves away, talking quietly with Chin and Kono by the fireplace. He left Danny to converse with Amy almost like he was concerned that standing by Danny’s side much longer would be an intrusion on Danny and Amy’s shared grief.

 

As Steve doesn’t usually waste time on tact, seeing the man sidle up carefully and respectfully beside Danny’s feelings rather than tromp all over them with cold logic has been an enlightening experience. Mainly because Steve adjusted so easily to doing it.

 

Like all it took was a good, clear explanation that proved the fault in Steve’s approach and Steve simply flipped a switch from being the voice of antagonism to the voice of comfort and understanding.

 

It’s taken Danny years to sort through his own emotions and even now, at age thirty-four, ninety percent of the time he’s still unsure of what he’s feeling and how he _feels_ about what he’s feeling. He’s a jumbled mess, a ticking time bomb liable to go off at any minute, and Steve’s cool and together and saying _I know you_ like it’s reason enough for him to believe anything and do anything. Like Danny could change Steve’s whole worldview and Steve would merely shrug and go with it, take it in stride and ask what’s next.

 

“I don’t know if ‘lovely’ would be the first word I’d use to describe him, but yeah, Steve’s a good guy.” Danny smiles lightly at Amy, though his attention remains with Steve. Steve’s gaze flicks over toward him and their eyes catch for a moment across the crowded room before Steve focuses back on Chin with a definitive air like he’d consciously chosen to do it.

 

“It’s too bad Meka couldn’t have met him,” Amy says, the sadness in her eyes growing deeper. She wraps her arms around her own waist. “He really would’ve liked him, I think.”

 

Danny considers that and finds that, yeah, he can imagine Steve and Meka falling in with each other quite easily.

 

“I think Steve would have liked Meka too.”

 

“It’s funny…one of the first things Meka said after he met you was how much he wished you’d find some happiness here on the island. Maybe love, maybe a sense of peace. He wished nothing but the best for you,” Amy smiles genuinely now, eyes brimming with tears that she quickly wipes away with one hand. “He would’ve been happy for you. I wish he’d known.”

 

“Known what?”

 

“About you and Steve.”

 

“Huh?” She’s lost him now; he really has no idea where the whole conversation took a veering left turn with no warning, but he’s having a hard time keeping up. They seem to be having two entirely different conversations and he’s beginning to get an inkling of what Amy thinks they’ve been talking about. “Wait, exactly _why_ would Meka have been happy for me?”

 

“Meka always said love is love, Danny. He would’ve been thrilled that you found Steve.” Danny tries not to swallow his tongue as Amy continues blowing his mind. “How long have you two been together?”

 

Danny looks at her uselessly, the question registering but taking a few seconds to really hit. Amy takes in the blank, staggered look on his face and maybe she thinks he’s confused about what she’s talking about, because she feels the need to clarify. “When did you two meet?”

 

“Me and Steve.” Danny repeats flatly, processing the implication. “Me and Steve? We met almost three months ago. But me and Steve…We’re not…Steve and I aren’t…he’s my _partner_ , Ame.”

 

“I know.” Amy drops her voice down a bit and leans in toward him as if sharing a secret. “You introduced us, remember?”

 

“No, I mean Steve’s Five-O. He’s a _cop._ Well, not really a cop, per se – that’s a different story involving some questionable decision making on the part of the governor – but he’s not my…” Danny hesitates, a bit embarrassed to even be bringing this up in a room full of police officers, who, historically, are generally found to be gay-friendly mostly in relation to male strippers with breakaway uniforms and The Village People. “Steve’s not my partner, uh, romantically. I mean…he’s my partner the way Meka was my partner. You know. On the job. Police partners. Badges. Guns. Bad guys.”

 

He’s rambling. Rambling like an idiot. He may even have made a noise like a police siren, complete with whirling hand motion, to make his point.

 

“Oh. _Oh_.” Amy brings a hand up to cover her mouth, surprised. She blushes, laughing nervously. “Danny, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s…the terminology, I’m sure it’s happened to other guys before. I mean, _I_ don’t know any _personally_ that it’s happened to, but…really. It’s not a big deal.” Danny can’t even convince himself that he’s okay with Amy’s mistake, he sounds so lame about it.

 

“I’m sorry…he’s not dressed as a police officer and when you introduced him like that…I never met him during the investigation. I remember now you saying something about a Steve in relation to Meka’s case but I never…” Amy trails off. “Anyway, I saw the way you were with him, and I drew the wrong conclusions. Please don’t take it the wrong way.”

 

“It’s 2010, Ame, it’s not an insult, it’s not a bad thing. It’s only…it’s not true, is all.” Danny assures her but his voice is wobbling and wavering. It’s not even that Amy mistook him for gay, because whatever, that only bothers him a little. It’s that she mistook him for gay for _Steve._

 

People have said it before…but she’s the first person to say it seriously, honestly. Who said it not when he and Steve were bickering and generally being obnoxious to each other, but when he and Steve were just… _being_.

 

“What do you mean, the way I am with him? How am I?”

 

“Danny…”

 

“I’m not offended, I’m not, I only want to know. How am I?”

 

Amy bites her thin bottom lip, clearly anxious and trapped. Danny should let her out of this corner he’s backed her into, but he can’t. For some reason, he really _needs_ her to answer.

 

“Ame. Come on.”

 

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

 

“You look at him like he hung the moon, Danny.” She looks at him with something akin to pity, as if she can’t believe he doesn’t _see_ this on his own. “It’s the way I used to look at Meka. Like you think he’s everything.”

 

Danny can’t think of a word in reply. He hates not having a thing to say. He hates being _stumped_ by something he should understand, something as basic as his own feelings.

 

Amy keeps that expression on her face, and Danny reminds himself that this day isn’t about him, or about Steve. He needs to get himself in check and worry about how he _supposedly_ looks at Steve some other, more appropriate time.

 

He shifts his weight on his feet and runs a hand through his hair, focusing down at the well-tread carpet underneath his feet.

 

He’s about to say something brilliant to put the conversation back on track, so on the verge of finding that perfect sentence, when Amy sets a hand softly on the crook of his elbow and gives his arm a gentle squeeze.

 

“I lost the love of my life last week. One minute he was there, the next he was gone…forever. If Steve’s just your partner, then, I guess he’s just your partner. But if he could be more than that, if he _is_ more than that…” She leans in and places a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t be blind, Danny.”

 

Amy rests her gaze on his face for a long, weighted moment and Danny tries to meet it, but he’s too much a coward. He’s scared and he doesn’t want her – or anyone else – to see it.

 

“He’s just my partner.” Danny mumbles to himself as Amy walks away, moving to greet some of her other guests.

 

“You okay?” Steve’s voice, even though it’s surprisingly low and gentle, startles Danny completely. He hadn’t even realized Steve had moved back to his side. Steve’s hand lands on his shoulder and Danny realizes then that his whole body automatically leans into it, like a flower would the sun. “You look a little shook up.”

 

“I’d be better if Meka were still here, man, but clearing his name is the next best thing.” Danny has to cough first before he gets that out, his throat full of things unsaid.

 

“Amen to that.” Steve nods sharply. “What do you say we go have a drink in Meka’s honor.”

 

“I say that sounds like a fantastic idea.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

And then Steve reaches right into the front pocket of Danny’s pants and grabs his car keys. He doesn’t ask; he takes them like Danny offered them readily. Like he said, _Sure, Steve, grope my body in front of the entire HPD and take the keys to my car, go right ahead._

 

Steve slaps Danny’s hip when he pulls back. He sends some miniscule, barely there signal across the room to Chin, who of course picks up on it easily as if Steve had shouted instructions with a bullhorn. The two of them are infuriating, always sharing some look like they learned it in the Hawaiian Badass Handbook and conveniently forgot to give Danny his copy.

 

Chin and Kono move toward the front door as a unit. Steve takes Danny by the sleeve and tugs Danny after him like a small child he doesn’t want to get lost in the crowd. As they meet up with Chin and Kono in the open doorway, Steve drops his sleeve and their fingers brush.

 

Danny lets himself wonder what Steve would do if he took his hand. If he twined his fingers with his and didn’t let go.

 

Something tells him that Steve would look at their hands, look at Danny, and that switch would flip. And Steve would shrug and go with it.

 

Because Steve McGarrett can handle anything. Adjust to anything. If Danny made him see, the way Amy just made him see, he’d probably smirk and say that he always knew Danny wanted his body.

 

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe things would get weird, pushing subtext to text like that. Maybe everything would disintegrate, or explode.

 

Maybe Steve doesn’t feel the way about him the way he feels about Steve.

 

Which is kind of impossible to determine, seeing as how Danny has never been more unclear as to how he feels about Steve.

 

“You coming, Danno?”

 

Steve’s waiting for him on the front lawn. The others have gone ahead.

 

Danny forces a smile and tries to pretend that he’s not leaving the wake of his first friend and partner on the island, and that he’s not on the verge of destroying his relationship with the second.

 

Because losing Meka is hard enough.

 

Losing McGarrett…

 

Danny falls into step beside Steve as they walk down the sunny street to where he parked the car. He climbs in the passenger side of his Camaro without one word of complaint.

 

Steve takes something out of the inside pocket of his uniform. Danny watches, interest piqued, as Steve pops a CD into the player and turns up the volume as “Bad Medicine” kicks in.

 

“Bon Jovi. Nice.” Danny grins easily and honestly for the first time today as the first notes blare out of the speakers. He can’t help himself. Steve smiles back happily, pleased.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

He reaches over and pats Danny’s arm with brotherly affection. Suddenly needing it like he needs oxygen, Danny clasps his hand over Steve’s and holds it there against his body for a brief moment.

 

Steve tenses only a little.

 

“No really. Thanks, McGarrett.” Danny’s gaze sweeps over Steve’s face, taking in the way those long eyelashes flutter and his irises shift from blue to green to hazel depending on which way his face is angled in the sunlight.

 

“Anytime.” Steve replies and gives his bicep a squeeze. Danny lets go, allows Steve to draw his hand back. Steve’s eyes narrow slightly. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yeah. I’m just…taking stock. Meka’s made me remember what I should be grateful for.”

 

“You’re grateful for me?” Steve chuckles, teasing. “What happened to my being the bane of your existence?”

 

“You still are. No worries. Your position in the pantheon of eternal pains in my ass is firmly in place.”

 

“Love you too, Danno.” Steve throws the car into gear and pulls out into the street. Danny doesn’t think he even looks. But who knows with Steve, he has a way of seeing everything and getting in everywhere before you even realize he’s moving, the sneaky fucker.

 

*******

 **Present**

 

“Chin.”

 

Chin twists around, startled at the sound of Danny’s voice. He hadn’t even heard Danny come in to the otherwise empty waiting room. He’s leaning against the soda machine a few paces away, wide eyed with concern but affecting a lackadaisical air like if he pretends everything’s cool, Chin won’t bolt.

 

Chin doesn’t leave, but he does the most immature thing he’s done in a very long while and ignores Danny completely.

 

He shoves quarters into the coffee machine and jabs the buttons like they’ve done him personal injury. It buzzes and whirs and takes its grand old time setting into motion. He resists the urge to kick the huge black metal box, but just barely.

 

Dark coffee that already smells bitter starts to pour into the Styrofoam cup and Chin steps back, waiting. He clenches and unclenches his fists simply to have something to do. There are very few things to set him on the edge like this – his history with Steve McGarrett and placing Kono in danger are two out of the three. All he needs now is some reminder of all the shit with Internal Affairs and he’ll have the hat trick.

 

Neither of them speaks a word until Chin pulls the cup from the dispenser and backs away.

 

“Chin, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Chin replies immediately, eyes snapping toward Danny. “I don’t need an apology.”

 

“Chin…”

 

“I don’t require your pity either.” Chin sits down on one of the unforgiving chairs and leans forward, elbows on his knees and the coffee cup between his palms.

 

“Who said anything about pity? There’s no pity here.” Danny puts his hands up in surrender. Chin wishes he’d been left alone, he’d only wanted a moment of solitude to think, to calm down.

 

“I don’t want to talk about you and Steve.”

 

“Okay. Can we talk about _you_ and Steve?” Danny counters, suddenly moving three steps into the room, leading with his broad chest out the way he does when he’s ready for a confrontation.

 

The look Chin shoots him is deadly. If Chin were the type to throw punches at friends, Danny would be flat out on the linoleum floor right about now. But Danny doesn’t back down. He moves closer, hands bouncing around, moving to further enunciate his words.

 

“Look. I don’t particularly know what I do and don’t want except that this thing with Steve, whatever it is, whatever it’s gonna be…I kinda want _that._ And I’m not going to feel right about it until you and I, we work out what needs to be worked out.”

 

“There’s nothing to be worked out between you and I, Danny. If you and Steve want to be together, _pomaika’i_ , good luck.”

 

“I don’t know what poma-whatever means, but that _good luck_ sounded suspiciously like _fuck you._ ” Danny takes a risk and sits down right beside Chin. “You may speak Hawaiian, but I speak Jersey.”

 

“What do you want from me, Danny?” Chin asks lowly, turning his head to look at Danny. Danny leans forward to match Chin’s position, resting his elbows on his thighs.

 

“I want the truth, that’s all.”

 

“What truth?”

 

Danny pauses. He clasps his hands as if in prayer, rubs them over his mouth, then drops them down again. He hits every other word of his next slowly-spoken question with a hand gesture to punctuate its overall importance.

 

“Do you still have feelings for Steve?”

 

Danny isn’t softening this at all or hiding behind witty barbs or off-the-cuff jokes. Chin shouldn’t be surprised; evasion-by-banter has always been Danny and Steve’s thing, not theirs. They’ve always played it more straightforward. But he hadn’t expected Danny to jump right in and ask _exactly_ what he wanted to ask.

 

“Do I still have feelings for Steve…” Chin repeats to himself, turning the question over in his mind.

 

“Yes. That is what I want to know.”

 

Chin rises from his chair. He walks to the large plate glass window that overlooks the parking lot. The sun is starting to go down, painting the sky in pastel swirls of color.

 

“I don’t feel like I’m out of line asking you that. You can tell me if I am.” Danny adds, and Chin sighs. Danny may be out of line, but maybe not. If he were in Danny’s shoes, watching him act the way he’s acting, he’d have to ask the question too.

 

“Danny, I fell for Steve when I barely knew him. When I barely knew myself. Those two people…they don’t exist anymore.”

 

“That isn’t exactly an answer.”

 

“I don’t have feelings for Steve.” He turns and half-sits on the window ledge. The metal is cool against his skin. “Not like that. I’ve come too far, and I don’t want to go back.”

 

“Forgive me for pointing this out, Chin, but you can’t go _back_ to something if you never put it behind you. To say this shit is unresolved between you and Steve is an understatement.”

 

Chin grits his teeth and doesn’t reply.

 

“Because have you two talked about it? Have you ever actually sat down and said, ‘Hey, remember that time ten years ago when we fucked? Maybe we should discuss that.’ ‘Cause me, I’ll take a wild guess and say that’s never happened.”

 

Chin digs his fingers into the giving material of the coffee cup. He takes a drink, lets it burn his lips and tongue and throat all the way down. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward Danny.

 

He takes his time sitting down, eyes narrowing as he sifts through his thoughts. Danny waits with the incredible patience he draws on when something really matters to him.

 

“Steve and I…never made sense.”

 

“Really? Cause from where I’m sitting, you actually make perfect sense.” Danny retorts with a half-bitter snort. Any trace of cautiousness is all gone, the usual Danny sparking through. “Actually, it’d be a fair bet that to anyone on the outside looking in, you two’d make a helluva lot more sense than me and him.”

 

“Yeah, well we’re not on the outside.” Chin replies humorlessly. He rubs his sweaty palm over his knee, setting his coffee cup on the ground between his feet. He turns slightly toward Danny, taking a brief moment to gather his thoughts and get this out right.

 

“Steve needed something from me that I couldn’t give. He wanted a piece of his life back, the life he lost when his mother died. And I thought I could give it to him. But it doesn’t work that way.”

 

“How does it work?”

 

“It works with you.” Chin states. Since the other night at the bar when everything spilled out into the open, he’s given the whole situation more thought than anyone rightly should have. It’s clear to him why Steve fits with Danny the way Steve never fit with him.

 

“It works because of Grace. Because Jack McGarrett couldn’t handle seeing his kids when they lived a few miles away and you moved clear across the country to be with your daughter just for the chance at seeing her twice a week.” Chin pauses, taking a breath.

 

“You’re saying we work because Steve has daddy issues?” Danny jumps in, disbelieving and offended; proving that such a contradictory mix of emotions within one person is in fact possible.

 

“That’s not what I said.” Chin rolls his eyes, wishing Danny would _get it_ so they could stop having this conversation. “He loves you because you’re a good father-“

 

“He _loves_ me –?“ Danny starts, like it’s news, and Chin steamrolls over him.

 

“And he loves you because you don’t back down. You know, I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve complained about how he barged into your life and turned it upside down, but you forget how you barged into his too.”

 

“You don’t exactly make that sound like a positive thing.”

 

“It is. The guy has been on the move for over 15 years and you have completely stopped him in his tracks.” Even now it’s hard to reconcile that. Years of hearing vague reports of Steve’s location and never pinning him down, like he was some ghost, and here Steve is in Hawaii, solid and staying. “I am sure Steve, before you, convinced himself that he would never have a home, never have a family, and that it was all for the best. After all it’s safer that way.”

 

“’Steve’ and ‘safe’ don’t belong in the same sentence without an ‘un-‘ being involved in there somewhere.” Danny denies, shaking his head.

 

Chin suppresses the urge to slap Danny across the face, focusing all his attention on the floor in front of him and swallowing down his frustration before continuing. He sets a hand on Danny’s shoulder and forces eye contact.

 

“Danny, the McGarretts play fast and loose with everything – except their hearts. Steve’s life is dangerous and he doesn’t like to lose.”

 

Finally, Danny doesn’t quip anything back and instead seems to be letting Chin’s words sink in, giving them proper consideration.

 

“He is risking something he has _never_ risked before by taking a chance with you. He sure didn’t risk it with me.”

 

Danny pales and Chin thinks maybe he’s gone too far, said too much. But nothing he stated was untrue. If Steve has opened his heart to Danny, Danny needs to understand what that really means.

 

“He’s been around the globe twenty times over, brah, but you are giving him the world.”

 

Danny sets his lips in a firm line and nods once. Chin claps his shoulder once and lets go, assured that he’s gotten his message through. He stands and makes to leave, figuring Danny probably needs to sit with this information for a minute.

 

“You still love him.” Danny states as Chin gets to the door. Chin stops and sets a steadying hand on the doorframe, then slowly turns back around to meet Danny’s gaze. Danny’s completely serious. “You need to know that, because I don’t think you do.”

 

In a way, Danny’s right. Every now and then, Steve’s going to smile this way or that way, or say a certain thing, and Chin knows his heart is going to twinge a bit. He can admit that to himself. He can even admit that Steve being with Danny might stir up a bit of residual jealousy.

 

The past fades, but it never goes away completely.

 

That doesn’t mean, however, that it’s his present or his future.

 

“I don’t. Not like you mean.” Chin explains and Danny shifts in his seat, sitting up and running a hand over his chin, gearing up to reply. “But I _do_ care about him and I don’t want to see him get hurt. And you can hurt him, Danny.”

 

“Yeah. Well, he can hurt me too.” Danny states, somber and restrained, and that’s exactly what Chin needed to hear. “And if anything happened to him I’d be fucking destroyed.”

 

The corner of Chin’s mouth quirks up a little in a pleased smile.

 

“ _That_? _That_ makes you happy?” Danny yelps, hands exploding into a flurry of motion.

 

“It’s a good thing, Dan. It’s good you feel that way.”

 

“You…are a sadistic bastard.”

 

“Remember that.” Chin replies and leaves Danny in the waiting room alone.

 

Steve is standing a few feet down the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and a look on his face that makes Chin’s steps slow. The faint smile he’d had on leaving Danny wilts and dies.

 

“Exactly how long were you listening?” Chin inquires and Steve stands up straight and closes the space between them.

 

As he gets closer, Chin realizes he mistook the intense expression on Steve’s face to be one of anger. He looks upset, a bit shaken, but not mad.

 

“I’m sorry, Chin.”

 

“You don’t have to-“

 

“I do. I’ve never said it and I should have. I’m sorry.”

 

“I am too.”

 

“You gotta know…it wasn’t about that for me. It wasn’t all about my dad, or whatever you think. I really…” The corner of Steve’s mouth pulls upward and he glances away, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “I really liked you. You meant a lot to me then.” He runs a hand through his hair and then places it back at his waist. “You mean a lot to me now.”

 

He looks back at Chin, their eyes locking. Something inside of Chin releases, something he hadn’t even realized had been locked tight for years. All this time, he’d felt like he wasn’t justified in missing Steve, because Steve had never been his to miss.

 

But maybe, for a brief moment in time, he really had. Maybe it’d been real after all.

 

A nurse comes around the corner pushing a rattling cart and breaks the moment between them. Chin waits until she gets on the elevator before speaking again.

 

“Danny’s in there.” He gestures back over his shoulder. “There are probably things he wants to say to you.”

 

Steve blinks a few times and then nods.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Chin touches Steve’s arm gently as he moves past him and Steve closes his eyes for a moment. It’s the closest to a good-bye as they’ll ever get.

 

Good-byes are useless when you’re saying good-bye to an idea, a memory, a barely there feeling. It’s like saying good-bye to the breeze.

 

He’ll see Steve tomorrow anyway.

 

*******

 

 

 **September, 2010**

 

He hadn’t expected to see Steve McGarrett so soon.

 

Or ever again, honestly.

 

The man did have a habit of popping up in his life and then disappearing.

 

After what happened to Jack, Chin braced for the possibility of Steve maybe, just maybe coming back in town. If he saw Steve at all, he figured it’d be in passing at the funeral. Instead they’d met at the side of the Missouri, Steve standing there in that uniform and him in his stupid shorts with his useless rubber gun.

 

A lot had changed since the last time they’d met. Since Steve stumbled from his bed and out the door. He’s had his job taken out from under him, his honor sullied, his love life completely derailed. Steve could have returned to Hawaii to meet a happily married man and a decorated detective, but that’s not what Chin has to offer these days.

 

They’d met like vague acquaintances with a history shared by association and Chin had been happy to play along. It’d been the easier option and it felt surprisingly okay to walk beside Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett and pretend he hadn’t once had the man in his bed. That he didn’t know the taste of his kiss or the feel of his skin underneath his fingers.

 

He still watched Jack McGarrett’s funeral service from afar. It wasn’t his place and he didn’t dare push his luck. His baggage with Steve, his baggage with the HPD…Jack didn’t deserve to have his memorial bogged down with so much weight. He’d left the cemetery feeling that a chapter of his life had fully closed.

 

Jack was gone; Steve would never have a reason to return to Hawaii. All the links to what once was would be long forgotten, washed away like sandcastles built on the shore.

 

But now here Steve is, sitting across the table from him in the canteen, saying he’s staying on the island and heading a government task force. He’s got a case, he’s got a partner, already has leads on tracking down the man who killed his father.

 

Only twenty-four hours and Steve has exploded over Honolulu, pushing his way back into Chin’s life as quickly as he’d run out of it.

 

Chin looks at Danny Williams, Steve’s new partner, and wishes the man wasn’t there. He wishes that this conversation could be theirs alone, because there are things he wants to say.

 

But they’re not alone, and all he can do is refuse to take part. He reminds himself that the man sitting across from him is for all intents and purposes a stranger. He doesn’t owe Steve McGarrett a thing, and he’s not upending his life, the life he’s just now getting back in order, to chase international criminals for a police department that stripped him of his job. He can’t risk it, not with the track record he and Steve have.

 

Steve’s being frustratingly obtuse and stubborn about the whole thing, and Williams isn’t being much better.

 

“I can’t be a cop anymore.” He didn’t want to have to explain this. He doesn’t want to be here, telling Steve about the shame brought on his name and how low he’s fallen. Steve doesn’t let it be.

 

“Why not?” He demands loudly, like he has a right to ask.

 

“Because I _can’t_ be! You understand? HPD accused me of taking payoffs. So I’m the last person they want to see wearing a badge.” Steve and Danny both stare at him in silence and Chin doesn’t want to sit here and see the disappointment creep over Steve’s face. “I gotta go.”

 

“Did you take the money?”

 

Chin stops, turns around.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Did you. Take the money.”

 

He can’t believe Steve needs to ask. It’s like a punch to the gut. But it’s been ten years. Who knows what Steve has become. Shoe on the other foot, Chin might’ve asked the same thing.

 

“No.” He spits out, eyes narrowing.

 

Steve stands then, and it’s there, right there in those eyes that are still exactly the same as they’ve always been.

 

“Then come with us. And we don’t need to talk about this again. Ever.” Steve’s unwavering. There’s not a flicker of doubt in his gaze. Chin had forgotten what it felt like, to have someone look at him like that. “This is your ticket back into the game. Call it payback, call it whatever you want, I don’t care, but I need you.”

 

An unexpected shot at redemption is what he’d call it, and that it’s being offered by the hands of Steve McGarrett is almost too much to handle. It’s as if something thought dead is coming back to life, stirring weakly inside of him. It embarrasses him how quickly tears spring to his eyes. He fights them back and succeeds, but he can’t keep the quiver from his voice.

 

“How do you know you can trust me?”

 

“Because my old man did.”

 

There’s no one else in the canteen with them at that moment. There’s no Detective Williams, no old couple sitting in the corner eating fish burgers. A breeze blows through the small room and it smells refreshingly of the ocean, not the salt and grease and stale coffee from the kitchen.

 

He’s twenty-three again and his heart is in his throat. Everything is different but nothing has really changed. He’s never been able to say no to Steve.

 

His answer not given but completely understood, Steve tells him to get changed into his street clothes and meet them at their new headquarters in an hour, and that’s that. His whole life back in the blink of an eye.

 

By the time he gets to HQ, he’s managed to convince himself it’s just a job. A job where Steve McGarrett is his boss and only his boss. He’s not even his partner. That’s Danny Williams now.

 

He needs back-up, he needs Kono, and he makes it happen. Because if Steve is back in his life, he’s can’t make the same mistakes again.

 

Steve can show up at someone else’s doorstep next time. Chin can’t - _won’t_ – let him in.

 

*******

 

 

 **Present**

 

“I thought I was picking you up.” Danny says shortly as he opens his door and finds Steve standing there. It’s raining hard outside, much like the first time Steve ever came to this rundown complex that Danny calls home, and Steve is soaked to the bone. His t-shirt is clinging to him like a second skin and he has to blink water out of his eyes just to get Danny in focus.

 

Danny gestures up and down Steve’s body.

 

“What, did you run here?”

 

“Walked.”

 

“Of course you did.” Danny mutters, rolling his eyes and un-latching the screen door to let him inside. He holds up both hands to stop him before Steve gets too far and then points to the spot where he stands. “Stay there, do not move, you’re gonna get everything I own sopping wet. I’m gonna grab some towels.”

 

Danny’s dashed off to the bathroom before Steve can say a word. The apartment’s so small that it takes no time at all for Danny to leave the room.

 

Steve dutifully remains where he is. The carpet beneath his feet is getting drenched with run-off and he’s sure dirt from his boots is turning it muddy. He considers going back outside but he figures the damage is done.

 

Danny’s back before he knows it, holding fluffy peach towels that Steve would probably tease him about if it were any other day. Danny is surprised that Steve had followed his command, faltering a step when he sees Steve hasn’t moved a muscle.

 

“You actually stayed put. I expected to find you sprawled out on the couch making yourself comfortable.”

 

“Not a couch,” Steve replies, observing in an out-of-body way that his teeth are nearly chattering.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s not a couch, it’s a bed.” Steve states with a small jerk of his head toward the pull-out that’s currently taking up much of the room. The pillows are askew and the sheets are rumpled; in all his time knowing Danny, he’s never seen the thing made up, much less converted back into a regular old couch.

 

“Was that a come on, Smooth Dog? ‘Cause if it was, that was pretty damn weak.” Danny chuckles and holds out one of the towels for Steve to take. When Steve doesn’t immediately reach out for it, Danny closes the space between them and starts drying him off himself.

 

“Not a come on, I was just saying.” Steve mumbles as he lets Danny manhandle him around.

 

“You’re fucking freezing, Steve.” Danny says, worry turning his voice grave. “I know the Navy probably messed with your head, but you _do_ realize you are not an _actual_ seal, right? You’re human. Humans get things like colds and the flu and pneumonia and consumption when they go out for a walk in the pouring rain.”

 

“Consumption?” Steve has to comment, it’s a natural reaction he can’t stop even as Danny’s hands are patting that towel over every inch of his body in a very distracting way.

 

“It’s a real concern.”

 

“In the nineteenth century.”

 

“And today.”

 

“No, TB. TB is still around today. In Africa. In Asia. Not Honolulu.”

 

“I worry for your health because I care about you and you mock me. I see how it is.”

 

Danny drapes the towel over Steve’s shoulder and backs up.

 

“Dry yourself off, Navy.”

 

Steve pulls the towel from his shoulder and drops it to the floor, then grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls the dripping wet fabric over his head. He drops it on top of the towel and levels his gaze at Danny.

 

Danny raises his eyebrows.

 

“Just so you know, I’d be fucking destroyed if something happened to you too.”

 

Danny’s eyebrows lift even higher.

 

“You, uh, you heard that?” Steve nods and Danny looks a little perturbed. “So did you eavesdrop on the whole conversation or just part of it?”

 

Steve thumbs his nose and bites his bottom lip, adjusts how the waistline of his cargo pants sits on his hips.

 

“Tail end of it. Maybe a bit more.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Danny runs his hands through his hair and leaves them folded behind his head. He stands there, looking at Steve for a long moment.

 

“Is that why you left? Because I came back to the room and Kono said Mary called and you had to go.”

 

There’s fear and confusion creeping into Danny’s eyes. Steve isn’t going to lie.

 

“She did call. But I didn’t have to go, not really.”

 

Danny sucks in his bottom lip and looks away. Steve speaks quickly, defensively, Danny’s stance a dead giveaway that he’s about two seconds away from feeling seriously hurt.

 

“I left because I had some stuff to think about, okay?”

 

“What, this? You had to think about this?” Danny signals the space between them, voice getting louder and his movement more exaggerated.

 

“I had to think about what Chin said.”

 

“He, uh, he said a lot of things, Steve. We had quite the conversation. Lots and lots of words.”

 

“About risk. About taking the risk.”

 

“What risk would that be.”

 

Steve crosses the apartment in three steps, damn the carpet, and answers Danny by pressing him against the wall, claiming his mouth with a kiss.

 

Danny seems surprised every time this happens; he wonders if that will ever change, or if every time they kiss it will be this easy to take control.

 

“You can say I take stupid risks, Danny, but you’re not one of them.” Steve starts tugging at the buttons on Danny’s shirt immediately, stopping just short of ripping the thing open. “You’re not a stupid risk at all.”

 

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Danny mumbles, cut off by another kiss. Steve sweeps his tongue deep into Danny’s mouth, pulling out a satisfied whisper of a groan. Danny’s hands are tight on his bare biceps, clinging to him like he’s drowning and Steve’s the only thing keeping him afloat. It makes Steve hotter, makes him harder, all that need conveyed in Danny’s strong and unrelenting grip.

 

“I made reservations,” Danny protests half-heartedly as Steve moves downward, mouth searing a path down Danny’s stubbled jaw. The rough bristle of it isn’t anything he’s ever known with anyone else; to him it’s uniquely Danny and he loves the burn. Danny’s hands slide up to his neck, frame the back of his head and press him closer. “I had a plan. This is not the plan… _fuck._ ”

 

Danny’s head hits the wall with a heavy thunk as Steve unceremoniously drops to his knees, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down Danny’s bare chest, pushing the flaps of his open shirt and loose tie out of the way as he goes. His hands work on Danny’s belt, dexterous and eager and impatient. He doesn’t care about Danny’s plans.

 

He finds the seam of Danny’s fly with his eyes closed, still lapping and sucking at the defined line that runs down the center of Danny’s abs. The zipper is like Braille against his skin and it reads _open, touch, now_.

 

He’d left the hospital earlier and walked for hours. Kept going when the sky clouded over, when it started to drizzle and then pour. He just felt like if he didn’t keep going, he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

 

Chin had been right about everything. About his incessant need to be on the move, the fear of loving something or someone only to lose it, every word of it was true.

 

But he can’t _not_ have Danny. He’s been able to forego so much in his life, but he can’t forego this. Once he discovered it was an option, it stopped being a choice.

 

He shoves down Danny’s pants and boxers barely enough to get what he wants; his hands on Danny’s taut ass and his mouth wrapped around Danny’s cock.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Steve,” Danny nearly shouts as Steve swallows him down without preamble. His hips snap forward and Steve lets it happen, maybe even encourages it by urging Danny closer with his hands. He takes whatever Danny gives.

 

He wants Danny to lose his mind.

 

Then they’ll be on equal ground.

 

Danny’s hands come down to his shoulders and then slide back up to find his hair, slipping through the short wet strands and trying hard to find purchase. When he can’t, he settles for resting his hands on the back of Steve’s head and simply feeling the bobbing motion Steve is making between his legs.

 

“Fuck, babe, if you could see…” Danny breathes, voice wrecked already. Steve glances upward, meets Danny’s hazy gaze, finds his blue eyes blown dark with lust. As their eyes lock Danny shudders, a burst of pre-come pulsing over Steve’s tongue, dick throbbing between Steve’s hollowed cheeks and wet lips.

 

Steve wraps a hand around the base of Danny’s cock and slowly draws him from his throat and mouth, tongue laving at his tip as his hands take over, stroking and pulling over Danny’s length. He’s slippery with Steve’s spit, and Steve swipes a thumb through the liquid seeping from Danny’s tip and spreads it down, rubs it into Danny’s skin.

 

He sits back on his heels for a moment and watches Danny’s whole body reacting, taking in the whole picture of what Danny wanton and ready looks like. His pale blue shirt rumpled and pushed open to reveal his sculpted chest, dark blue tie loose around his neck but still hanging down the center of his body. The strip of silk fabric rises and falls with the timing of his rapid breathing, its tip so near to brushing Danny’s cock as it juts up from between his strong, muscled thighs, his erection barely free from his khakis and white boxers that Steve got down just enough to see the full cut of Danny’s sharp, narrow hips.

 

Danny shivers, a groan pushing past his lips as Steve leans back in, licks a hot, wet strip up the underside of his cock. His eyes fall closed and he grabs at Steve’s face blindly, trying to pull him upward.

 

“Couch, now.”

 

“Bed.”

 

“Whatever. Get naked, get on it now, or I’m going to fuck you right here on the floor.” Danny is grabbing and pulling at him but Steve arches an eyebrow at him. “I am _not_ doing this on the floor.” Steve smiles but cooperates. He’d been aiming for a reaction, not rug burn. He rises from the floor gracefully and backs up to the mattress.

 

Danny tugs off his shirt and tie and tosses them aside haphazardly. The laces of Steve’s boots are wet and difficult but he manages to pry them off as he watches Danny finish undressing. His boots hit the floor with a one-two thud and Danny’s eyes snap toward him.

 

“You’re getting the sheets wet,” he says and Steve smirks, stands up and unzips his fly.

 

“You’re the one who told me to get on the bed.” Steve reminds him. Heavy with water, his cargo pants fall to the floor under their own weight with no help from him. His black boxer briefs need a little more assistance. He feels Danny’s gaze on him, intense and hot, as he peels and drags the damp, clinging lycra of his underwear down his legs and kicks them aside.

 

“That’s just not fair,” Danny states, eyes running up and down Steve’s naked body.

 

“What?”

 

“You, everything about you.” He’s on Steve then, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top. “I never stood a fucking chance.”

 

“Do you really care?” Steve rolls Danny’s compact body underneath him, stretching out and thoroughly enjoying the sensation of skin on skin. Words falls by the wayside as they rut against one another, breathing growing labored and the whole room getting hot.

 

Danny’s gasping and rocking his hips up against his insistently when Steve draws back. Danny moans.

 

“What…where are you going…”

 

“Don’t wanna come like this. Want you inside me.”

 

Danny snaps his eyes shut and throws an arm over his forehead.

 

“Damn it, McGarrett, don’t say shit like that.” He groans again, sitting up.

 

“Why not?” Steve asks, reaching down, his hand finding Danny’s cock and stroking.

 

“Urghhh, because I don’t actually have anything. To, you know, do this right.”

 

“Thought you had a plan.” Steve can’t help the smirk, he really can’t, even though he’s been riding the edge ever since he fell to his knees and he can’t take much more. From the way Danny twitches against his palm, he guesses Danny’s on the verge with him.

 

“Plan was, your house. And you’re a friggin’ Boy Scout, you’d be prepared.”

 

“You’re right, Mary bought me some lube,” Steve admits, dipping his head and kissing the spot behind Danny’s ear. He doesn’t know yet if Danny likes it, but Danny tilts his head and presses into it so he supposes it’s working.

 

“Your sister bought you lube? There’s so much wrong with that…”

 

“But I’m also me. We’ll figure it out.” He’d suggest going without, but Danny would tell him to quit being tough and stupid and shoot him down. So he gets up from the bed and walks to Danny’s cramped bathroom, digging around in the cupboard for an appropriate substitution.

 

Ten minutes later he has his arms braced against the backrest of the couch, fingers clutching the green fabric as Danny pushes into him slowly from behind, taking the place of where his thick fingers had just been.

 

It feels better than he ever thought it would, Danny surrounding him, filling him up. Danny’s grip on his hips is strong and he’s pressed tight against his back, skin sticking slick with sweat. He’s so warm now he’d swear he’s running a fever, on the brink of a delirium that has him whispering nonsense as Danny thrusts deeper, pushes harder. Danny’s hands move to slide over his body, feather-light over his bruised ribs, harder over his stomach, before closing firm around his cock and pulling, stroking like he’s been touching Steve’s body for years and not minutes.

 

Danny comes first, shuddering and sinking his teeth into the slope of Steve’s shoulder to stifle his cry. Steve groans loudly as Danny’s come spills warm, the throb of Danny’s cock as he releases sending shockwaves up Steve’s spine.

 

“God, Steve,” Danny whispers against the back of his neck, mouth slipping down between his shoulder blades, and he sounds so utterly _broken_ that Steve loses it. The intensity of his orgasm is so much that it’s almost painful, twisting out of him from some place deep, deep inside.

 

His knuckles turn white, his grip wrenching tight as he pulses, wave after wave of come streaking the back of Danny’s couch.

 

Danny clings to him through the aftershocks, neither of them wanting it to be over.

 

It takes awhile for Steve to think clearly again, and longer for him to find his voice.

 

“You’re gonna need to get a real bed.”

 

“This seemed to work just fine,” Danny retorts, moving his hips so Steve can feel him still inside as if to prove his point. Steve’s cock twitches with renewed interest.

 

“Worked so well we ruined it,” Steve corrects, laughing lightly as he feels Danny lift his head behind him and strain to look over his shoulder.

 

“Aw, hell. You can clean that up, babe.”

 

“Your fault,” Steve says. Danny slowly pulls out and the second he does, Steve turns and pulls him down to the squeaky mattress, pinning him with his weight and pressing Danny’s hands above his head, against the pillows.

 

“I see how it is.” Danny glares with no real venom, no anger to back it up.

 

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

 

“I’m usually happy if we’re even in the same book.”

 

“Then we’re good.”

 

“So let me up.”

 

“Not quite yet.” Steve grins and lowers his head to kiss Danny again. Danny meets him halfway, making a pretense of struggling against Steve’s iron hold on his wrists.

 

When Steve lets Danny’s arms go, all they do is circle around his back and pull him closer.

 

*******

 

 

 **September, 2010**

 

Steve releases Danny from his stronghold and picks up his original train of thought right where he left it. He’d already forgotten the whole altercation, written Danny off, when suddenly someone’s fist collides with the side of his face.

 

Hard enough to knock him back. He actually staggers.

 

It caught him off guard. Apparently he’d underestimated Danny Williams.

 

“You’re right. I don’t like you.” Danny spits out, shaking out his hand and clutching his wounded arm as he stalks back toward his car.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Steve mutters to himself, surprised by the pain. His cheek feels like something exploded. He prods the quickly bruising skin with a couple of fingers, feeling for broken bones or chipped teeth.

 

He’s fine, and by tomorrow he’ll barely feel it. But for a little guy, Danny packs one hell of a wallop.

 

Steve watches as Danny slams his car door and starts the engine. He’s ready to go, and he’s not giving Steve many options. Either get in or be left behind.

 

He’d assumed the _haole_ would be an assist here, a partner in title but in all other ways a detective working on his direct orders, at his disposal and his discretion. He thought he’d found a pair of fresh eyes and an extra set of hands, not someone with the heart and mind of an equal.

 

Maybe he was wrong.

 

Something tells him he’s gonna love working with this guy.

 

 **END**

 


End file.
